And Stood Awhile in Thought
by Oake14
Summary: Inspired by Curlscat's 'The Moments We Share', except without the word limit since I can't write with that kind of restriction. Its basically like various oneshots inspired by story prompts. Will mostly focus on Puck and Sabrina, but it will include other characters in the Sisters Grimm universe.
1. Blue

**This story is essentially something like various oneshots combined with story prompts. I was reading 'The Moments We Share' by Curlscat and thought that this might be a good fanfiction to write considering I have been suffering from a severe lack of inspiration. I will also be trying in some of these stories to write in a style similar to ember53608, kind of surreal but realistic? Read his/her (sorry your profile doesn't specify your gender) stories it'll make sense then. I especially recommend 'midnight' and 'more than meets the eye'.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sisters Grimm**

**P.S. There will be some character death, character resurrection, out-of-character behaviour, stuff like that. Just a warning.**

**P.P.S. I will be very surprised if anyone recognises the title, and congratulations to those who did, but to those who haven't it is a direct quote from 'The Jabberwocky' by Lewis Carroll, which I thought would be pretty neat considering the Sisters Grimm includes the Jabberwocky. Also, 'The Jabberwocky' is one of my favourite poems which is why I thought of this line.**

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><p><strong>Blue<strong>

Whoever said the ocean was blue? Whoever has gone to a beach, stared intently at the water, and said to themselves with no doubt in their mind 'yep. That's a bright blue ocean alright'? The ocean is more green, a salty, briny green, with shades of blue washed in. It's more turquoise-y than not, more jade than cobalt. This is what runs through Puck's head, all this and more, when he looks out the window and stares wistfully in the distance. So when he's flying over the beach one day, skimming the waves with his bare feet, his eyes take on a dream-like look, and he's transported to a past time.

His life used to be like green, like green incarnate. His life was the green of naivete, green behind the ears, a small shoot poking out of the ground. He would lie on the dirt-baked ground, stare up at the leaves of the trees, as now-coloured sunlight filtered through, hazy and fuzzy and warm. It was a time of innocence, of carefree joy, running through wet puddles of mud, talking to elephants, and tigers, and cougars, flying high into the air and dropping earthworms on unsuspecting victims, before retreating into the clouds. It was fun, and free, and childish. But soon it became repetitive, humdrum almost, a life dedicated to one single, mono-syllabic colour. And then she burst in. And changed things.

She was blue, like fire, like ice, like crackling pulses of lightning webbing along the infinite expanse of the sky. She was a sheer hurricane of activity, whirling and swirling and moving like a clap of supercharged thunder, and out popped his wings and he tried his best to keep up. He'd fly alongside her, with her, always, beating furiously as he strained against the wind. She shook his life up, sent large echoing ripples against the green-blue surface of the water, brought excitement, and passion, and meaning to his life. And for that, he loved her.

The coastal wind whipped through his hair as he flew faster, and faster, whipped up into a frenzy in the sheer fervour of his thoughts. His mind raced, green eyes shimmering, the breath caught in his mouth, and his throat, and his nose, harsh and raspy as he sucked in great draughts of air. His brain surged with fire as idea after electrified idea bolted through his mind. _Is this what it's like to have an epiphany?_ Suddenly, he stopped. He hovered in the air, pink wings buzzing, as a plan slowly grew in his head, as large as the wicked smile that drew itself across his face.

...

She screamed. Storming through the hallway, she slammed open his door to find him lounging on the trampoline, smirking. He chuckled when he saw her, standing up and walking to her as he grinned appreciatively at her now-aquamarine hair.

_Maybe I should tell her now?_ he thought, tentatively.

And then she punched him, and he fell to the ground gasping.

_Or maybe not._

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. Please review.<strong>


	2. Letter

**This chapter isn't one of my best pieces so don't expect too much. Also, this chapter's link to letters is a bit tenuous, so sorry about that. Thanks for reading.**

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><p><strong>Letter<strong>

Puck was never good with important occasions. I mean, sure he looked pretty good in a tux, and he was a fair dancer, but there was just something about the words 'special' and 'event' that sent shivers down his spine.

Maybe it was because it reminded him of a former time, back in Faerie, when he had to dance with his mother and he accidentally stood on her foot and broke her shoe. She was not pleased. Or maybe it was because it reminded him of when he had to dance with Moth, and he tried so many freaking times to break her shoes, and failed.

Why were her feet so damn fast?

It just wasn't fair.

...

But it wasn't just dances. It was weddings too. They were too uptight, too prim and proper, a direct challenge to the way he's lived his life ever since he left. He was sorely tempted to skip out on Morgan's and Seven's, but then the alternative would have been to go out and fight a dragon. He was reckless, but he wasn't stupid.

So he went along, grudgingly, fiddling with his shirt sleeve, and later his bow tie when the glamour appeared. What's the point of making everyone look fancy if it'll just fade in a couple hours? Then he looked up, and saw her, and gasped.

Wow, he breathed. She turned around at that, and he quickly snapped his head down, returning momentarily to adjusting his arm cuff.

The rest of the wedding wasn't that bad, after that, but then again he didn't pay attention to the service, but rather the gorgeous girl in the blue dress in front of him.

...

It was this aversion, this intense dislike towards grand events which made him propose the way he did. There were no fireworks, no hired band or beautiful scenery. Heck, he didn't even get down on one knee, just stayed sitting. He had taken her out to dinner, to the Blue Plate Special, for what seemed like a nice normal meal. He'd ordered almost half the menu, in a useless attempt to calm his nerves, and then bolted it all down in record time.

She, always intuitive, asked him, what's wrong? Nothing, nothing, he'd say, and hurriedly changed the subject. Frowning, she dropped it, but kept it filed away for future use.

Finally, when he'd finished, he pushed the trays to one side and asked Farrah for a sheet of her notepaper, which she gave with a confused look. Taking a Sharpie from his pocket, he carefully wrote down her initials, underlined the 'G', and ended it with a question mark, sliding it over to her.

**S.G?**

Then, for good measure, he took out the ring box, opened it, and placed it next to the paper. She didn't say anything at the start, just peered strangely at the sheet. Then she saw the ring box, and her eyes widened, and her jaw threatened to drop open. Picking up the sheet, she scanned over it, before gesturing wildly to the pen, fingers opening and closing. He suppressed a chuckle at her reaction, but relinquished it to her, palms sweaty as the nerves returned. She wrote something down, and passed the paper back.

**Goodfellow**

Grinning, he kissed her, long and hard, on her smiling lips, laughing slightly. He slid the ring on her finger and, putting the paper in his jacket, picked up Sabrina and flew out of the diner, his mouth pressed to hers, their fingers locked together.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. Please review with suggestions for future chapters.<strong>


	3. Sun

**I actually had a lot of fun writing this. Thanks for reading and please review.**

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><p><strong>Sun<strong>

Sabrina had always burned easily. After all, you'd expect that for someone with such fair skin but Puck apparently didn't, and he found it hilarious. Sabrina Grimm, his spunky fiery whirlwind of a girlfriend couldn't even go the beach without rubbing on layers of sunblock, and that's before she puts on that massive hat and those ridiculous sunglasses.

He teased her about it constantly, whenever he felt bored and in need of some fun he'd walk up to her and ask, wanna go to the beach, and she'd look out the window, where the sun was blisteringly hot and scorching the pavement and anyone with sense was inside an air-conditioned building, and she'd just glare at him. And then punch him. He'd hobble away, chuckling, but not before he stole a quick peck on her cheek.

He didn't just stop there though. He'd buy her bottles of suntan lotion for her birthday, paint her skin red while she was napping, heck he even managed to wire a couple heat lamps into her room and ran them overnight once.

Of course the next morning she woke up with terrible inflammation and a 40 degree fever and after the yelling he got from Granny Relda and Veronica, along with his own experience of seeing her lie in bed, too weak to even insult him, he never tried that again.

He had other plans though, long elaborate pranks, one of which included a shiny disco ball coming down from the ceiling, revolving slowly with the word 'SUN" written across in thick black marker.

...

Eventually she got so frustrated and annoyed at his mocking that she did something that would forever be branded as one of the most reckless and stupid things she's ever done.

She rose to the bait.

One day, when he had again offered to take her to the beach on one of those dangerously hot days, she had surprised him by accepting. She picked up her towel and book and strolled to the front door, waiting impatiently.

Sunblock? he asked. No thanks, she had replied icily. Hat? She shook her head. Not even a pair of sunglasses? She refused. If you say so, he shrugged philosophically, and opened the door.

...

They didn't come back until long after the sun had gone down, to the crunch of gravel and the slamming of the front door. Needless to say, her skin was lobster red, peeling in some places, and every time she moved she winced as shirt fabric rubbed against her sensitive, chafed skin.

She had tried, very tentatively, to take a shower, but a couple seconds after the water turned on there was a hoarse hiss and it was quickly switched off. All they could prescribe was rest, and some hastily bought aloe vera from the store.

He thought it was extremely funny at first, didn't think anything of it for the next couple days, but then he'd realised that she hadn't moved from her bed for several days and that whenever she got up to go the bathroom, there would be a quiet gasp of pain.

Plus he'd looked up sunburn on Google and found out that it could cause skin cancer. When he researched what cancer was, he almost had a fit.

Flying straight into her room, he landed by her side on his knees, apologising profusely while gently cupping her hand in his. He promised he'd never do it again, he didn't know it could kill her, all the while blinking furiously. Sabrina was extremely confused by this sudden outburst, brow creasing together, until he explained what he saw on the computer, and then her expression cleared.

After that day Puck never left her side. He sat in the chair by her bed, staring at her intently, as if him watching could somehow make her better. He brought her all her food, helped her get out of bed and back in it, despite her constant complaints that she didn't need his help, and that he should just go and do something else.

He stayed doggedly, and she slowly got better, until she was finally able to go to school again, and put on jeans. He had insisted on bringing an umbrella to school now on every sunny day, and even when it was cloudy and overcast. I'm not taking any chances, he said. She told him over and over its fine, I don't get sunburned that easily, but he wouldn't hear it.

Eventually she managed to persuade him to stop, for one day at least. Thick clouds covered the sun, and she had no outdoor activities lined up that day, she argued. He had accepted, albeit grudgingly, grumbling and mumbling the whole time.

They were halfway to school when it started raining.

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><p><strong>Sorry I know Puck was kind of out-of-character in this one, but I really wanted a more plot-driven Puck and Sabrina moment, instead of like flashbacks like my previous two chapters. I'm not entirely sure about whether I over-dramatised the sunburn or not, I've never got it before so I wouldn't know. Sorry in advance if I got it wrong and it's too unrealistic. Thanks for reading and please review.<strong>


	4. Woodwork

**This one focuses on Pinocchio, instead of Puck and Sabrina, because I was always fascinated by how he was an adult in a child's body. Also, when Geppetto died I kind of really pitied and hated Pinocchio at the same time. Thanks for reaading.**

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><p><strong>Woodwork<strong>

Pinocchio loved woodwork. It didn't matter what he made, be it a chair, a table, or even a pencil holder, but he loved building with wood. The smooth feel of the wood under his fingers, the beautiful colour change as your eyes travelled from one end to the other, even the flowing direction of the grain. It made him feel whole. It gave him vibrancy and life, as if he could feel the tree it once was hold its energy in his palm. For a moment, he would just hold the material in his hand, breathing deeply, appreciate it for what it was. Then he lifted up his knife, and began to cut.

The problem with beauty is that it never shows the whole part of someone. In every person, in every thing, there is always something ugly, something bestial and unattractive which makes a person cringe and look away. True beauty is accepting that unappealing part, embracing it instead of pushing it away, showing to the world that you're not ashamed of this deformed aspect of yourself, that you've appreciated it as one of your own. Many people can't do that, it's too difficult to take responsibility for that side of you, too difficult to persuade yourself that that thing is a part of you. Because then it spoils the image, ruins that perfect symmetry, distorts the body. So instead, they ignore it, reject it, convince themselves that they are above this greed, or this harshness, or this crooked pair of teeth, and in doing so, break themselves. They tear away a part of themselves, become mere shades, shadows of what was once a whole body.

Pinocchio was no different. He despised the fact that he looked like a child, hated it with every fiber of his being, yearned instead for the image, and the reputation, and the respect of an adult. As a child he was looked down upon, humoured but not listened to, even though behind those large eyes was the brain of a fully-developed man. He longed for control, for power, to have some sort of grasp over this chaotic world he lived in. As a boy, he could not do that. But as a man, then, then he would have a starting point, a chance, a weapon. When he carved, he felt that, felt like he was in control, that he could take this shapeless hunk of wood and transform it into something beautiful.

He convinced himself that he was doing the right thing, he was turning something that was seen merely as an asset to something that would be cherished and admired. He suppressed the vibrancy he felt in it, ignored the cries as he carved away pieces of once-living and growing material. He whistled a false tune to try and block out the noise, whittled fast to end it quickly, revelled in the feeling of power, and wept at the pain he caused.

Deep down, Pinocchio was nothing but a boy, cut away from the rest of himself. He was unwhole, broken, as lifeless and hollow as the marionettes he carved. He knew it. And still, he tried.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. Please review.<strong>


	5. Train

**Thanks for reading. Most of the events that happen in this chapter are flashbacks, and have been pulled from the books, except I've tweaked them a little to fit with the chapter. Its mostly the same, but there might be a few inconsistencies with the end. Hope you enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Train<strong>

She sat alone in the carriage, peering out the window as the outline of a city appeared on the horizon. It was small, not so much a city as a large town, but the sheer flood of memories it brought pricked small tears into her eyes. Blinking furiously, she laid back in her chair, picking at her college sweatshirt, as she relived the moments of a past life.

...

A horde of evil rabbits. Chasing her, as she ran for her life, feeling the heavy thump of her heart, the furious scamper of feet drawing ever closer. Then a cold hand slid into hers, and she was flying, up up up, while her sister squealed beside her. She twisted her neck upwards, to see a blonde-haired fairy boy grinning down at her, pink wings buzzing, as they soared across the ocean.

...

A horrendous roar, and the shatter of breaking glass. Screams punctuated the air, fearful cries, the sound of panic running amok in the streets as _something_ flew through the hole, with wild gnashing teeth. It was scaly, dripping drool, this enormous monstrosity with long hideous talons and large bulbous eyes and a small girl in red perched on its neck. Compared to the sight of that creature, she would appear almost innocent.

But there was something about her, in the way she crooned softly to the beast, in the way her hands were both soothing and gentle but also feral and erratic, in the way her eyes flashed gleefully beneath the shade of the hood, which betrayed the tortured soul inside.

Flying upwards, the boy next to her slid a wooden sword out of his belt and brandished it menacingly, a grin plastered on his face as he yelled loud obscenities at the monster.

The next yell was one of pain, as his wings were torn out of his back.

...

Cold air rushed around her as she fell from the balloon. It whistled around her, deafeningly loud in her ears, as she clutched the silver remote in her hands. Craning her neck upwards, she saw the furious figure of Oz, as he pointed excitedly at the object between her fingers, shouting loudly.

_At least he's angry now_ she thought, as the ground edged ever nearer. She knew it was petty, this basic idea of revenge, that displeasing him somehow made his betrayal of her parents that bit more bearable, but she was just a small girl at heart, despite her bleak maturity.

Plus she was about to die, so she cut herself some slack.

Suddenly she stopped falling, felt warm arms wrap around her back, and the howling of the wind was replaced by gentle buzzing. He looked down at her, concern in his features, but it was hurriedly replaced with a cheeky grin, as he flew upwards, holding her to his chest.

...

She was focused elsewhere, and he was very quiet, so she never realised his approach until she heard a metallic clank, and the cool grip of steel around her wrist. She whipped around to find a handcuff locked on her arm, the other half around his, and a key disappearing between his lips.

Needless to say, she was absolutely furious, that this fairy boy thought he had the right to tell her where to be, even force her! But no amount of beating or shouting would get her free, and she settled angrily down on the trampoline, grumbling under her breath. He laid down next to her and she edged away, stretching her arm out as far as she could to get the most possible distance.

Silence followed, eventually broken up by tense conversation, her replies growing shorter and shorter with each word. Finally, they lapsed off into sleep, but not before he told her that she didn't need it, the makeup.

After that it was just plain awkward.

He didn't say anything again for the rest of the night.

...

Stupid Puck. Not knowing about fairy tales, or Snow White, or the fact that you never eat apples just lying around on the ground. He laid there, sleeping, and he looked so relaxed and calm her anger subsided for just a minute. Then he didn't wake up and the fury returned, as she muttered long elaborate curses to him.

She knew how the story ended, she knew what she had to do. Didn't mean she had to want to do it though, despite a small part of her brain arguing that it was exactly what she wanted to do.

_Shut up_ she thought, grimacing, and bent down. Pressing her lips gently to his, she felt a hot spark, and jumped upwards.

The familiar tingle of magic roiled in her stomach, and the potency of Bunny's sleeping spell surged through her briefly, making her feel light-headed and dizzy.

But there was something else there, still magic, but not of the spell kind.

She breathed deeply, looking up to find him staring at her, confusion evident in his eyes. "What happened?" he asked. Sighing, she began to explain. This was going to be tough.

...

She had announced that she was leaving for college, a really famous one down in the city, for four years. She had been eighteen then, finished packing her bags, said all her goodbyes, and was just coming out of the kitchen, aiming for the front door when she saw him.

She had already told him and he had reacted in his normal spectacular fashion, flying off in a flurry of agitation where he brooded in his room for the next few days.

Looks like he had come out now.

She wouldn't go so far to say he looked terrible, but let's say if he ever went to Charming's house looking like that, he'd probably be yelled at before being denied entry. His hoodie was torn and ripped in places, small cuts and scratches were bleeding all over his face, and his wild hair had a twig sticking out of it.

He looked like he'd spent the last week climbing in trees, which, knowing him, he probably did.

Shuffling his feet, he didn't say anything, just walked towards her, rubbing his eyes furiously on his sleeve, stopping a half-step in front of her. She placed her hands on his shoulders, pulling him towards her, sniffing, as he went gratefully.

Knocking foreheads, their noses touching, she smiled reassuringly, watching him return the expression, albeit sadly. She edged her head forward, he did too, closer, closer, she could feel his breath on her lips, he could smell her, everywhere, they were millimetres apart, and then they stopped.

They couldn't.

Not here, not when she was just about to leave. It would mean too much, hurt too much. So they just stayed like that, looking into each other's tearful eyes, as wet droplets slid down their cheeks, arms wrapped tightly around each other.

They broke apart, eventually, as she picked up her suitcases and left, shoulders shaking, mind whirring, a cold rock lodged in her stomach.

...

That last memory was always the one she was left with, whenever she thought about home, and she groaned, head falling onto her arms. _Why is it so hard?_ she thought sullenly. Here she was, Sabrina Grimm, two-time savior of the world, double degree holder in law and psychology, and she couldn't even figure out her relationship with Puck.

She loved him, even now, but has he continued to as well? Four years apart, not a single glimpse of each other, would things still be the same?

One side of her, the side concerned with law, with hard facts and data and the short brutal truth, told her that chances are he probably didn't, that his short attention span and lack of contact would most likely result in him forgetting about her. She hated this side, its cold logical truths, its blatant ignorance of the influence of emotion, its overwhelming tendency to be _right_.

And there was the other part of her, the psychologist, involved in the mind and feelings. He still might love you, it said, he still might. Perhaps your lawyer friend is right, logically she has a point, but you have to remember the effect emotions plays on this. They can change things, drive you to do amazing and terrible things. If a mother can lift a car of her dying baby, I'm sure Puck can find it in himself to not ignore you. And this is Puck we're talking about. When has he ever let you down?

Multiple times, the lawyer snorted, remember the basketball? If I remember correctly, the psychologist retorted, saving someone from certain death far outweighs gluing a basketball to their head.

They continued bickering and Sabrina opened her eyes, annoyed and confused. _I am literally arguing with myself. This is getting ridiculous._ She looked around the carriage, and her eyes settled on a small fly buzzing around, hovering over the table and around the lights. _Why can't I be like that fly over there? Just flying around, not caring about anything, no need to worry about any problems or issues._

Her head sank to the table again, and she stared at its wooden surface. Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound, and she looked up to see a certain fairy sitting down in front of her on the other side of the table, the fly nowhere to be seen. He had a cocky grin on his face, and he put his sneakered feet up on the chair.

"Puck," she breathed "what are you doing here?"

His smile grew even wider, and his eyes twinkled. "I couldn't wait"

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. Please review with any suggestions.<strong>


	6. Sandbox

**Because I always found Mr Canis and Red to be two of the most complex characters in the series, and I loved their father-daughter relationship. Plus, I have to include something other than Puck and Sabrina, which I have been failing abysmally at.**

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><p><strong>Sandbox<strong>

Mr Canis hates sandboxes. They are literally the opposite of everything he's strives for in life, all the order and peace he longs for. It's so... messy, and difficult to keep tidy, and whenever he sees one he'd reminded of his days as the Wolf, the chaos of a past life, when he had to constantly fight for control of his own body. It brings back bad days, dark days, and the taste of blood is revolting in his mouth. So when Jake suggests building a sandbox for Basil to play in, Mr Canis growls so fiercely at him that the idea is quickly abandoned, with pale faces and shaking heads.

"Well we can't just keep him cooped up," Henry says, after a tense minute, "he needs to go out and get some fresh air. Being stuck in a house all day can't be good for his health."

"Oh me and Red can take him!, Daphne pipes up, they've got a new playground in the park!"

Henry smiles at his daughter's energy, and nods. Squealing, Daphne leads the toddler out of the room, while everyone else leaves, prepping for lunch. All except for Mr Canis, who leans back in his armchair, eyes closed as his breathing slows. Suddenly he feels a tugging at his shirt, and he looks down to see Red pulling at his sleeve.

"Yes dear, what is it?" he says

"Can you come with me and Daphne to the park?" she asks hesitantly.

His eyebrows come together, and he looks at her, confused "Of course of course. But why?"

She flushes, and her gaze drops to the ground, mumbling 'I'm scared of new things"

Mr Canis smiles warmly at this, chuckling quietly as he gets up and takes her hand. "Why that's nothing to be ashamed of," he says "for someone who has the Wolf in her, I'd say being scared of new things is pretty justified. God knows I was"

She peers up, surprised at this news "But you're not scared of anything"

He shakes his head "I was. I was scared of everything when I was first cursed. Everything set me off, I was afraid something was going to happen that would cause me to change"

Red's eyes widen, and a scared look appears on her face "But what if that happens to me?"

He squeezes her hand. "It won't. I won't let it"

...

They reach the park, and immediately Daphne runs towards the swings, excitedly pushing Basil. Letting go, Mr Canis gently led Red towards the pair, and goes to sit on a nearby bench, eyes sliding close. Breathing rhythmically, he enters a deep trance, but his keen ears remain listening.

He detects Daphne's growing boredom with the swings, and her rapid moodswing as she spots something else to play on. He opens his eyes, and sees to his horror the two girls playing in a sandbox, the little boy laughing between them.

He coughs harshly, fist clenching as a vein sticks out of his forehead. Turning away, he breathes deeply, focusing on the chuckles of delight from Red, instead of the terrifyingly haphazard sand. When they leave, he couldn't be more prepared, and strides quickly out, with long, loping steps. Thank God that's over, he thinks.

...

How wrong he was. It appeared that Daphne and Red loved the playground, particularly the sandbox, and went every day, dragging Mr Canis with them. For an hour, he sat on that same bench, fidgeting uncomfortably as he endured the torture of memory, remembering what he used to be like, what now lurked in the body of that small girl in red.

But as he watches, his eyes glaze over, and he finds himself looking not at the sand, but at the people in the sand. Their smiles, their laughs, the sheer fun they exude, the passion and energy. They begin to overcome his memories, close them off, and gradually he gets over his anger.

With each passing day, he feels more of their joy sink in, fighting his past life, bringing him a sense of idyllic calm and peace, until finally they no longer hurt. He looks forward to every trip, lips twitching upwards in fondness as he watches them play, and shriek.

Until one day he sees this little boy in blue walk in, flashing a charming grin at his daughter, and seeing her smile shyly back. Then he sits up, glaring intently, as he see them begin to talk. He growls, and the hackles rise.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. Please review.<strong>


	7. Watch

**This one will be slightly different to the other Puck and Sabrina stories. You'll see why.**

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><p><strong>Watch<strong>

Puck loves to cause mischief. He loves to break the rules, delights in watching the reaction of those stuffy old rule makers, as prank after prank showers on them in co-ordinated sequence. It's beautiful to watch, he thinks, and his trademark grin grows even wider with each shriek. Then Sabrina comes in tapping her watch, and he's broken out of his reverie, and he gets up grumbling.

He hates that thing, that black digital thing fastened around his girlfriend's wrist. Its nothing fancy, no gold chains or leather straps, just black plastic with a plastic screen, but it's got a timer and a stopwatch and an hourly chime, and it's perfect for her. Her dependence on it is the only reason he lets her keep it, the only thing that's stopping him from tearing it off her and throwing it as far he can into the Hudson River.

He tells her this one day, over dinner, and she looks at him wondrously. She understands why, I mean it makes sense, but a life where she didn't have constant access to the time frightens her immensely. How would she organise anything, arrive on time for important occasions, create any plans for anything if she didn't know what time it was?

After several minutes of stunned thinking, she finally comes to a conclusion. He's never had a watch, so he doesn't know how helpful one is. He snorts, very loudly, and tells her that she's dead wrong, that he hates watches because it ruins all his fun, not because he's never used one. This only fuels her, and she converts her building anger into action, calculating what watch would be best for him. He is not amused by her efforts.

...

The first one she tries is a metal one, cool steel on steel, with a series of segmented links joined together to form the strap. It's quite regal, and fancy, and she knows he's a trickster but maybe she can convince that its something royalty wears.

She could not.

He takes one look at it and walks away, and when she finally manages to get it on him, he complains about how cold it is, or how it's so heavy its weighing down his wrist, or that i'ts constant ticking is driving him crazy. It infuriates her to no end, and finally she relents and lets him take it off, missing the sly grin he has momentarily plastered on his face.

...

The next one is more practical, similar to hers, black plastic with lots of little functions. He's more curious this time, tries it on when she gives it to him, and wears it around for the next couple of days.

By the end of it the screen is cracked in three places, the light-up button has fallen off, and the catch is dangling loosely off, so the watch keeps sliding up and down his forearm.

What did you do?!, she yells furiously, when he comes home that night with that sorry excuse of a timepiece hanging limply in his fingers.

He has the grace to look sheepish, for a second, before announcing in his Puck-like fashion that it wasn't strong enough to keep up with him, and its bloody glow in the dark numbers kept revealing his position to his chimps, so when he was playing ambush with them he got caught every time.

...

The third one, the last one she assures him, is incredibly futuristic, all chrome and gleaming silver. Its got a sloping curved screen, which blends into the strap, and a date and second display. He laughs when he sees it, but its missing its traditional sparkle, and she knows its got his interest.

It lasts the longest, a whole week, before he comes home declaring it useless. He flings it to her, saying that once you look past all the shiny stuff its still just a watch, and he hates those.

She sighs, tucking it into a nearby drawer to sell later, and walks upstairs quietly. Frowning, he follows her doggedly and kisses her, again and again, until reluctantly she accepts his dismissal of watches, laughing.

...

She knows she said she's given up, but one day she's struck with such a flash of brilliance that she decides she's going to try once more, just for the sake of it. Rushing to the jewellers, and then the engravers, she walks out with a twinkle in her eye, a ticking piece of victory in her purse.

She presents it to him in the car, and he has to appreciate the thought she's put into it.

It's a pocket watch, with a click down lid and a golden chain, but that's not what gets him. It's the carving on the cover, which causes the breath to hitch in his throat, and fuels the overwhelming desire to kiss her.

In the centre are the letters 'TK' and 'QoS' encircled within a ball of fire. Expanding outwards are a web of designs, everything from a pot of overflowing gunk, to a thorny stemmed rose. Its beautiful in its originality, a myriad of chaotic designs on such an organised object, and he can't help but smile, long and wide.

Leaning in, his eyes flicker quickly to the empty country road they were on before he presses his lips to her passionately. He loves her so much, loves her excitement and energy, and when he surfaces his eyes are glazed over.

Then he sees the bright red car barrelling towards them and he throws himself over her, shielding her as the cars crash, and she screams.

...

She's lying in hospital, crying, with starchy white sheets pulled up to her neck.

She wants him there, wants him to be with her and support her, but she knows he can't. He's not by her bed, or in the hospital, or at home. He's faded away, and she hates that, and she cries.

With shaking fingers she reaches over onto her bedside table, where a single object sits, glinting gold. Its a pocket watch, charred and slightly melted, and no longer ticking.

Clicking it open, she stares at it, and the tears rush out faster. Its stopped working, frozen in a single moment in time, the second and minute and hour hand poised in a final position.

It's the time of his death.

And it breaks her.

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><p><strong>I know the ending's really sudden and random but I wanted to have a sad Puck and Sabrina story, because I haven't written one of those for this story. Thanks for reading. Please review.<strong>


	8. Military

**This one's a bit longer and has more of a plot than the others. I also included some Henry and Puck in there, because I've always liked Henry.**

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><p><strong>Military<strong>

War was where the action was. War was where all the gunfire was, all the shooting and explosions and excitement, and all Puck wanted to do was go to war. He knew people died there, he knew it was incredibly dangerous, but he was the Trickster King, he had fought dragons and survived, there was no way a human war could stop him!

That's what he tells everyone, Granny and Titania and Mustardseed and Daphne when he's signing the military enrollment form. They all shake their heads, or call him an idiot, or plead with him not to go, but he refuses, just keeps scribbling on the paper.

He's caught up in the fervour of his dream, and there is very little that exists in the world that can stop him.

Except her.

She walks up to him, just as he's clicking the pen close and putting it away, and slaps him. Hard. It stings, even on his Everafter face, and his whole cheek is bright red, throbbing painfully. She yells at him, berates him furiously, leans over for the paper before he regains his senses and takes control.

Snatching it out of her reach, he tells her what he told everyone, prepared for whatever insults he may call her, whatever punches she may throw.

Instead, she starts crying, throwing herself into his chest while large sobs rack her body. His mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, before his arms instinctively go around her, and he murmurs soothing words into her ear. She begs him not to go, gripping his shirt tightly with one fist, desperately telling him that he can't leave. What if you die, she cries, what if something happens? She can't take that, can't live without him, not because he's dead of some stupid dream of his.

He falls silent, mind whirring, as he listens to her, watches her break. She leans up and kisses him, filled with passion and heat and feverish hope, clutching him tightly because she doesn't want to let him go, trying to persuade him out of this stupid idea of his. It almost works, his lips are on the verge of saying 'no', but something whispers in the back of his mind.

Some sinister, idiotic, immature part of him, the little child in his soul which craves action, weaving fanciful dreams in his mind which beckon seductively at him. He pulls away, and tells her no, he's sorry but he's going, whether she wants him to or not. She looks at him, in seething fury, and slaps him again, on the other cheek, before storming off, still crying.

...

The day he leaves draws closer, and quiet rumours become deadly truths. There had been mutterings of a war brewing, an old ally had become discontent, and now there were preparations for battle. She didn't believe them, she couldn't, not until the day he was perched on the doorstep, bags in his hand as he takes the first step out.

Walking up to him, she kisses him, hard, then slaps him, hard, before finally she tells him to be safe, don't die on me. He chuckles, pecks her nose, and tells her of course, he'll be back to tease her again. I love you, she finishes. I love you too. Then he's gone, in a swirl of dust, and the crunch of car tyres of gravel, as she's left stranded without him.

...

He's gone for several months after that, dodging and shooting and occasionally flying, while she waits anxiously for his return. Dinner is a sombre affair, as is lunch and breakfast, and the walks to school are quiet and uneventful.

Finally they receive word, but not from him, but from a doctor down in Faerie, an old friend of Puck's family by the name of Cobweb.

_Puck has been gravely injured_, he writes, _we're not sure if he'll make it but we'll try our best to help him pull through. We'll keep you posted._

She can't breathe, its happening, she just knew it would and here it is, her greatest fear confirmed. She locks herself in her room, sobbing into her pillow, while Daphne tells her it's alright, he'll be fine, they've got magic and fairies on their side.

But her words are hollow, and they leave a bitter taste in her mouth because she knows she's lying. Everyone's thinking the same thing, and suddenly the house gets even quieter.

Before, there was simply an absence of noise. Now, there wasn't even that, just a blanket of nothingness, a thick heavy air of grief and mourning. Granny Relda's dishes lose their colour, Mr Canis' meditation sessions become shorter and shorter, even Henry's newspaper shakes occasionally as his fingers and shoulders tremble.

Eventually though, she stops crying, looks at herself in disgust, at how weak she's become. If Puck ever saw her, she thought, he'd have a field day. Draining a glass of water, she unlocks the door, and joins the family. She's determined to be there when he comes through that door, with her family.

At last, another letter arrives, and no one can open it. No one except for Sabrina, who's detective instincts kick in, cut through her fog of grief, and she seizes it, slitting it open. With a strong but quiet voice, she reads it out.

_Dear Grimm family_

_This is Cobweb. I am pleased to inform you that Puck has recovered from his injuries. He should be home within the week. I cannot tell you how happy I am, neither can I guess how happy you are, but be prepared. You may not like what you see._

_Best wishes_

They erupt into cheers, laughing and hugging, and Sabrina collapses onto the couch, whooping. Even a tear slides down Henry's face, and he embraces his wife and daughters and family, even dragging in Mr Canis. He's returning, they think, he's returning.

...

When he finally comes in, there is a sharp intake of breath, and then a muffled yell as Sabrina throws herself at him.

She kisses him everywhere, every bare patch of skin, his face and hands and neck, and he laughs loudly, holding her close.

Suddenly, there's a quiet cough, and they break apart to see a staring Henry, who can't help but smile slightly as he walks chuckling away.

Everyone else gathers up Puck, as if one body, scolding him and crying over him and telling him again and again to never go back there. He cries as well, he insists they were big manly tears, which continuously spill out of his eyes.

Finally, Sabrina manages to pull him outside, all to herself, and there she finally sees him.

He's limping now, heavily, one mangled foot dragging behind the other, and a large chunk of his nose is gone. His arms tremble ever so slightly, and a torn flap of skin flutters where his left ear should have been.

What happened?, she whispers, what did you do?

Smiling sheepishly, he explains. Turns out he wasn't the only Everafter in that war, or the only one with magic. They enchanted their bullets and blasted him in the leg, and then managed to clip him in the arm and face while he was trying to get away. He was assumed dead, of course they didn't know he was an Everafter, until his mother and brother came swooping in and took him to Faerie. After that, well she knew the rest.

Sabrina listened, mouth agape, before she walked slowly up to him. Holding him by the shoulders, she kissed him softly, before whispering in his good ear, don't you ever do that to me again, or I swear to God I'll be the one who pulls the trigger next time.

He chuckles, before pulling her to him, bringing their lips together as he kisses her over and over again.

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><p><strong>I know this one isn't as good as my others, but I haven't written a plot-driven story in a while and I thought it'd be fun to write one again. Thanks for reading. Please review.<strong>


	9. Makeup

**This one is a lot longer than the previous ones and Puck is really out-of-character in this story, like more so than the other stories. This isn't my best story though, so be warned. Thanks for reading.**

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><p><strong>Makeup<strong>

The problem with Puck is he's unable to understand the minds of other people. He lacks the ability to put himself in their shoes, see the world from their perspective, listen to his words without knowing his original intent. Maybe it's because he was brought up as a prince, someone whose needs should be tended to before the needs of other citizens; maybe it's because he never really found a situation where he had to visualise the thoughts of others; heck maybe he was just born that way, but that was who he was.

He's always thought that the best way to show people that you care is to purposely overreact when they do something, that that's the most effective way to tell them they're perfect.

It works, sometimes, and it can be funny.

But other times, it just gets plain annoying, and that's when the trouble begins.

...

When Puck told Sabrina she didn't need makeup, he said it with the kindest of intentions. He was trying to make her feel better, tell her something that would hint just a little bit about how much he liked her, as well as let out a little bit of the emotional confusion swirling around in his head. She had taken it as just that, a compliment, and it was nice, and refreshing, and new, and it became a thing.

It became their thing.

...

On one of their dates, she had purposely worn a little lip gloss, just to see how he'd react, the weird sparkly kind that she wouldn't be caught dead in if she wasn't trying to make it painfully obvious that she was wearing it. Which, she was.

He didn't notice it at first, he was so used to seeing her not wear makeup, that when he saw her he didn't quite register the fact that her lips were a little different than usual. But when they were walking out of the movie theatre, the hot electric lights flickering down on them, he noticed that her lips were a little shinier than expected, and he stopped and asked why. She had merely smiled, and feigned ignorance, but he knew and he pressed on.

Finally, she admitted she was wearing some lip gloss, just trying it out, see what it would look like.

"But Grimm!" he whined "I told you you don't need that stuff!"

"Well I'm just testing it," she huffed, "if it doesn't look good I won't put it on."

But he was still pouting, mumbling about how she was just wasting her money, when suddenly something clicked and a brilliant idea (well it was brilliant for him) popped into his mind.

"Grimm," he said slowly, craftily, "is there any way I'll be able to persuade you to rub that stuff off?"

"Not until we get home Puck," she sighed, rummaging around in her purse.

"Right," he said, putting his plan into action, "I'll just have to take it off myself," and with a sly grin he seized her by the waist and pressed his lips to hers.

She struggled for a bit, confused at what was happening, but then she realised, he was kissing her, and she started kissing back. When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, he looked at her lips and went,

"Nope, I can still some gloss on there" and leaned forward again. This time she was ready, and as her arms went around his neck he grinned, and laced his fingers over her waist. When they arrived back home, breathing heavily, their lips were both red and swollen, although Puck's, Daphne noticed, was just that bit glittery-er than Sabrina's.

...

One night he went into the bathroom, exasperated at the damn tie he couldn't figure out how to use, and found her fiddling around with what looked like eyeshadow, and eyeliner.

"What are you doing?" he asked rudely.

She glanced at him, rolled her eyes, and turned back to the mirror. "What's it look like I'm doing fairy boy?"

"Well," he began heavily, "it looks like you're trying on makeup, even though I told you before that you didn't need it."

"It's for the ball," she growled, "you're required to look nice."

"But you already look nice Sabrina," he said, "you don't need makeup to show that." He blushed a little after saying that, and so did she, and he could see the corners of her lips twitch upwards a little. But they went down again almost immediately after, and she kept applying.

"Well still, I'm putting it on anyway."

"Argh," he grunted, "why don't you ever listen to anything I say?"

She flinched, and put down her brush. Swiveling around, she said furiously, "Are you kidding? I always listen to you! Whenever you make some stupid suggestion, its always me who actually think about your idea, instead of just ignoring it. If anything, you're the one who ignores me!" She breathed deeply, and went back to touching up her makeup.

She heard him shuffle his feet and then walk out, muttering darkly. "Whatever," she thinks she heard him say. Finally, when she was finished, she went downstairs to find him sitting on the couch waiting by the door. He looked up when he heard her come down, and stood up hesitantly.

"Sorry for getting mad earlier," he mumbled, "it wasn't your fault I guess."

A little taken aback at how mature he had become, she quickly recovered and walked forward, closing the distance between them. "Its fine," she smiled, "don't worry about it." She saw him playing around with his still untied-tie and grasped it firmly in both hands. "Dammit Puck, you can't even do this right," she scolded playfully, quickly adjusting it correctly for him.

He grinned, and put his lips next to her ear. "Thanks Sabrina" he whispered, ridiculously close to her.

She frowned at the distraction, especially at how unjustifiably good it felt, and finished up. "No problem fairy boy" she said, stepping away.

"Not so fast," he said suddenly, and his arms shot out to grab her, "I want to properly say thank you first," he continued, and pressed his lips to her.

...

He had just come home from a very trying day at work, and he was not in a good mood. Going straight for the kitchen, he grabbed a bag of chips and sat down to eat them in front of the TV, grumbling. When she walked in a little after him, she put her briefcase wearily down on the table and walked over to her husband. He looked up, still scowling, and when he saw her face his eyes narrowed. "What's that on your face?" he demanded harshly.

She sighed, and gestured to the foundation and mascara she wore. "You mean this?," she asked, "this stuff?"

"Yeah," he barked, "what's that."

Her eyelids started to droop close, and she sat down. "It's called makeup Puck" she yawned, and leaned back.

"Why are you wearing it?" he snapped.

"I had a court case," she replied drowsily, "and it makes me looks professional."

"Well wipe it off," he snapped, "you don't need it."

This last comment annoyed her and she sat upright, glaring at him. "Look Puck," she snapped, "I understand that you've had a bad day and you're annoyed but that doesn't mean you get to act like this alright? Just lay off, it's only a bit of makeup."

He scowled and went back to eating his chips, staring moodily at the TV. "I'm just saying," he started, "you don't need it and I don't see why you insist on wearing it."

She groaned, throwing up her arms, and trudged upstairs. "I don't care any more Puck, I'm tired and I want to sleep and I'm going to bed." she called. He sat there for a couple minutes more, before setting down the bowl and dashing upstairs, where she was curled up on the mattress. "What do you want?" she said curtly, still angry.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and just waved at her face. "Just wondering how you could possibly think that gunk makes you look good." he snarled. He knew that he was just lashing out at her, just using her as an outlet for all that pent-up frustration he's had for the last few days, but it felt so good to let it all out, and he just couldn't stop.

She stood up, eyes glistening a little, and bared her teeth at him. "Why are you doing this Puck?" she hissed, "Why are you being such an ass Puck? Can't you just be nice for once?"

"Nice?" he snorted, "Yeah right. I am being nice, I'm telling you the truth. Maybe that way you can fix yourself up for once."

This set her off, and the next minute she was yelling at him, and he was yelling back, and suddenly they got into another one of their fights, already short tempers burning ever shorter, insults and threats and screams ricocheting off the walls.

...

The next morning, Puck wakes up, after having exhausting himself from all the shouting, to find himself alone in bed. He panics, and bolts up, terrified at the thought that something may have happened to her. He hears the shatter of glass downstairs and gasps, wings popping out as he flies down to the kitchen.

"Sabrina! Sabrina!" he calls out desperately, head going from side to side as he looked around.

Finally his eyes focus, and he sees her standing by the sink, looking at him curiously while the remains of a plate were strewn around her. He sighs relieved, and smiles at her, when he sees her glaring at him, no doubt remembering the events of last night.

Gulping, he turned and fled, going upstairs, thinking quickly. I have to make it up to her, he thought, as he ran a hand through his hair. It was my fault I suppose.

Making up his mind, he quickly throws on a change of clothes and brushes his teeth, before racing downstairs again, picking up a broom by the closet. Hovering in the air, he sees her kneeling over, sweeping up the glass into a dustpan and taps her on the shoulder. She looks up and he offers his hand, and his toothiest grin.

"Let me handle it," he says, "go eat breakfast or something"

She almost smiles, but then she seems to remember that she was supposed to be angry, and scowls. Standing up by herself, she dusts off her knees and walks over to the counter, and begins munching on her toast. He begins to sweep up the shards into the dustpan, whistling a cheery tune as he worked. She ignored him, mostly, before finally setting down her food and looking at him pointedly.

"Will you knock it off?" she says.

He grins sheepishly, and stops. "Right, sorry" The room is silent now, except for the occasional tinkle as glass shards run into the plastic dish, or a quiet crunch as Sabrina eats. Finally, Puck decides enough is enough, and swallows his pride.

"I'm sorry" he begins.

The crunching stops, and Sabrina turns to him. "Excuse me?" she asks.

Biting back the automatic sarcastic remark, he says it again. "I'm sorry Sabrina, for acting like such an ass last night"

She blinks, unsure how to respond, and swallows, putting down her bread. "Oh" she says.

Taking advantage of her momentary surprise, he continues. "I was really tired and pissed off last night and I had spent my whole day holding in my frustration at my idiot clients so when you came home I just saw a chance to let it all out and I took it. I know, I know, that's a stupid move, and no, before you say anything you are not just an outlet for my anger and I did not marry you just so I can vent my annoyance out on you. Oh gosh I'm not doing a very good job of this. Look point is, I'm really sorry for how I acted last night and it was all my fault and I hope we can just go back to how we were before and man I really want to kiss you right about now. Oh shoot that doesn't mean I said sorry because I wanted to kiss you, but I do like kissing you and oh I'm just making things worse. I'm going to stop now"

All this came out in a garbled, jumbled-up mess and when he finished, his head dropped and he looked at the ground, face flushed as he continued to sweep. Suddenly he heard a wonderful sound, a sound of complete amusement and humour, and looked up to find her laughing, head thrown back while that joyous sound came out of her mouth.

He watched in abject curiosity until finally she calmed down enough to talk properly, smothering her giggles. In between chuckles, she said

"That was quite possibly the worst apology I have ever heard Puck. It was honestly, so bad. But hey," and here she stood up and walked over to him, his cheeks still a deep red, "you meant it, and that's what's important"

Placing her arms his neck, they knocked foreheads, noses touching. She could feel the heat emanating off of him, and his breath was warm on her lips, coming out in steady, tight puffs. She moved her head forwards and they kissed, feeling him smile into it as her eyes closed.

When they broke apart, their lips stayed together, not kissing, just touching.

"So I'm guessing this means you forgive me right?" Puck asked, with a cheeky grin.

She chuckled. "What do you think fairy boy?"

"I think I may need another kiss to confirm"

Rolling her eyes playfully, she nonetheless complied, and their lips lock.

...

In the weeks preceding her birthday, Puck was seen as getting more and more nervous. He seemed to be checking the contents of his bank account more and more frequently, patting his wallet every so often, and he was seen perusing various shops down at the mall. Eventually, the day arrived, and Puck flied grinning into their bedroom, holding two wrapped parcels. Setting them down, he smiled winningly at Sabrina and gestured at them.

"Open them up" he said.

Warily, she opened the first present, large and squarish, half-expecting it to be a tub of goo or something. Instead, a large makeup kit fell onto her lap, filled with brushes and powders and all kinds of different pencils and lipsticks. She looked, confused, at him, but he simply held up one hand and motioned for her to open the second gift as well.

This one was smaller, cylindrical and smooth, and it opened to reveal a kind of unmarked can.

"What the-", she began before it suddenly sprung open, rubber snakes flying everywhere with a loud pop! Puck started laughing, rolling on the floor at the sudden jump it gave her, and she lifted it to throw at him before she happened to peer inside. And stopped. In it was a small velvet box, a deep rich red, and she carefully opened it to reveal a beautiful ring.

A golden 'G' was set in the centre, while two pairs of insect wings surrounded it, one emerald and one sapphire. It was delicately simple, and its simplicity was what made it so original, and thoughtful. Sabrina stared at for it a second longer before coughing slightly and looking up at the man in front of her, who was now peering at her with earnest eyes.

"Puck, I-"

"Wait," he interrupted, "let me just get this off my chest before you say anything. I just want you to know that I've been thinking about the makeup thing and I've decided that you're right, and that you should be allowed to wear it if you want so I bought you this pack to show that if you want to wear makeup you can and I won't try and stop you. That much. I genuinely don't think you need it but if you do, then you can-"

"Puck," Sabrina said suddenly, "stop. I'm just going to stop you right there. I don't wear makeup because I like it. I wear it because I have to. So thanks for the kit, but I don't think I'll need it"

Puck broke into a relieved grin, and wrapped his arms around her.

"You have no idea how glad I am to hear that." he replied. "Hey do you think Marshmallow will notice if I give this to her on Christmas?"

She smiled, amused. "No Puck, I don't think she'll notice."

He grinned. "Wonderful"

Laughing, Sabrina pressed her lips to his, letting them linger there for a moment.

"Happy birthday stinkpot" he said.

"Thanks, fairy boy"

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. I know they're really out-of-character but I tried to keep them in-character when I could. Please review.<strong>


	10. Alone

**This chapter was by far the hardest one to write, although I did have a lot of trouble with 'Makeup' as well. This story might be a little confusing though, conflicting emotions are very difficult to write about for me, so be prepared for that. Thanks for reading.****  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Alone<strong>

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? No one knows. You know why? Because anyone who has had the displeasure to witness such a catastrophe is mostly likely dead from watching it.

When Puck and Sabrina finally got together, when they finally grew up and realised that their feelings for each other ran deeper than just friendship, everyone just shook their heads in loving expectation, or stared in shocked horror, or bit down very hard on their palm. They all saw it coming, it was only a matter of time, they said, it was clear as day.

But who could predict what would follow after that first revelation? Who could foretell how those two immensely independent people would interact? No one did, and now they no longer can, because it hurts too much to talk about. Because who wants to talk about how they saw two people break each other?

...

They never went out much on dates. Puck could never think of any place good to go, and Sabrina didn't think they were that special, so they just stayed in.

But Daphne, always the romantic, disagreed completely and insisted they go on one. When they declined, she asked again, and still they refused. So she took the initiative to set up the date herself, with the help of Uncle Jake of course, and reserved them two seats at a local restaurant a few blocks down.

Giddy at the thought of free food, Puck thought, yeah why not, and flew out of the house, dragging a confused Sabrina with him. They returned a half hour later, grumbling darkly, and when Jake asked why they were home so early, all he got was a couple of furious glares, and a muttered "We got kicked out."

Later, he learnt that they got into a massive argument over who should pay, and that's when the first seed of doubt was planted in his mind.

...

"Fine!" he yelled, storming out of her room as his footsteps thumped loudly on the upstairs floor. He came downstairs, muttering curse words and threats under his breath, and made his way over to the kitchen, where he then proceeded to forcefully pull open the fridge door and start tearing out whatever he could say.

"Making a big deal out of nothing," he said quietly "didn't even do anything that bad."

"What are you doing?" someone said. He looked up in surprise and saw Veronica standing there, leaning against the doorframe with arms folded and a disapproving expression on her face.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" he snapped "I'm eating."

"Right," she said disbelievingly, "I believe the proper term you're looking for is 'absolutely demolishing the kitchen which I work very hard to keep tidy."

He looked down at the mess he had made, milk pooling in a puddle around his feet, and multicoloured chunks of food littered the floor.

"Whatever," he shrugged "you can make me clean it up later."

She walked over towards him, and snatched the pack of chips out of his hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me Puck."

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

"The fact that you just thundered down the stairs like a rabid elephant. The fact that you're now emptying the fridge faster than any rabid elephant."

He shrugged, again. "Yeah, well, it's nothing."

"Puck tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Does it concern my daughter?"

He flinched, at her directness, and met her steely gaze "Why do you care?"

"Because if it does, than I have a right to get involved."

He snorted "Who gave you that right? Henry?"

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped to a low whisper "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he replied coolly, although the nervous glint in his eye exposed his fear "that you may act all strong and independent when it comes to fighting hobgoblins, but you're a sucker to that idiot husband of yours."

"Don't even go there."

"Remember New York? Remember how easily he persuaded you?" he was in his element now, as he vented his frustration out on this woman, revelling in the freedom he felt yet mourning the pain he was causing. "You think after that she still accepts you?"

"What do you know?!" she shouted, suddenly losing all composure "What do you know about her?! I am her mother, I love her, and I may have failed but God help me if I do that again! She's willing to give me another chance, my daughter is willing to give me another shot at bringing her up and if you think that your petty arguments are going to stop me from doing just that then she's obviously dating an idiot isn't she?!" her voice faltered, and she took several deep breaths.

Puck was backed up against the counter, fear evident in his features as he saw this normally controlled woman bare her soul to him, and he had absolutely no idea what to do.

She coughed, brushed a hand over her eyes, and looked up at him, the fearless, calming gleam back in her eye. "That, is why I care Puck. That is why I have a right to know. I will be her mother, just as you will tell me right now what is going on."

He gulped again, and sighed heavily. "Alright fine. A couple days ago, as a prank, I dyed her hair green, which you should remember."

She nodded.

"Well," he continued "she decided to get some payback, so at night she snuck into my room and took Kraven, and drew a moustache on his face in sharpie. Naturally, that was totally out of line and it was completely uncalled for and..." He tailed off when he saw Veronica fold her arms again, and arch an eyebrow.

"Anyway" he said hastily "I may or may not have, in retaliation, lured her to my room and then had my monkeys throw water balloons at her."

She blinked, surprised. "That's it? But you've done that hundreds of times before."

"Yeah..." he replied nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand "except this time I might have told her that I wanted her to come up to my room so I could apologise, and that I was going to make it up to her. Also, I snuck a tarantula into Marshmallow's bed because she helped Sabrina get into my room, some magical key or something."

Veronica looked at him curiously, an expression of disbelief and shock on her face, and collapsed into a chair, mumbling quietly "You're an idiot," he heard her say "You're a damn idiot. Oh God my future son-in-law is an idiot."

Puck frowned at that "What? What did I do? I didn't even do anything that bad!"

She looked at him witheringly, and his gaze dropped "Do you have any idea what you have just done Puck?"

"Obviously not." he muttered quietly, but quickly shut up when she glared at him again.

"You betrayed her trust Puck. You made her think that you were maturing, that maybe you were finally starting to grow up and at least show her some respect, and then you dashed it. Just completely ruined it. And then, on top of that, you hurt her sister."

"But it's not even like this is new territory! I've done it before!"

"Puck, you're her boyfriend now. Get it? You're dating her. And even if she won't admit it, even if she'll deny it constantly, she has higher expectations for you now, she's trying to convince herself that she did the right thing by telling you and you are honestly not helping. She's still a person Puck, she still has feelings and opinions."

"But still..." he whined persistently, although it lacked its usual conviction

"Look Puck, there are two things Sabrina cares about more than anything in the world: trust, and her sister. You just made complete shambles out of both of them. Think about it. She's spent two years in constant paranoia, not knowing who to trust and not trust, all the while trying to protect her sister from the dangerous world she saw out there. She's matured very fast in those two years Puck, and the fact that she trusts you enough to actually start dating you means you have a huge responsibility to make it up to her, and the fact that you just broke her trust and terrified her sister is not exactly screaming good job here."

"Yeah I suppose..." he mumbled bitterly, defeated and ashamed "But then how do I fix this?"

"Talk to her." she said simply "Apologise. Tell her you're sorry and try to be a better person next time. She'll forgive you eventually, she won't give up that easily."

He stood up, turning to walk out to his girlfriend's room. "Alright then. Thanks." he smiled

"No problem." she said breezily "But if you ever pull a stunt like this again, you'll have me to answer to. Understand?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes ma'am."

She picked up an apple from the fruit basket nearby and bit into it, making a shooing motion with her free hand. Hovering gently, he zoomed out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

...

"Hey" he said, entering her room, and she glared at him, turning around so her back faced him.

"What do you want?" she asked curtly.

"I came to say sorry."

She sniffed. "Yeah right. I'm not falling for it again Puck. Where's Sullivan and your other monkeys? Hiding outside, waiting to ambush me?"

"No. No Sullivan, no ambush. It's just me. Look Sabrina, Veronica talked to me about you, and about what I did wrong. And even though all the mushy feelings stuff is probably going to make me break out in a rash later, I get what you want me to do. When I was younger, my parents put huge pressure on me to become king, and I never felt like I could amount to their expectations. So I did the opposite of what they did, I chose the fun path, and in doing so I completed alienated myself from my kingdom, and my father. I admire you for your strength, the fact that decide to grit your teeth and walk through all the pain, instead of taking the easy way out like me. And I swear I'll try harder for you, I'll try and meet your standards. Because if I don't, I could lose you, and I never want that to happen."

He had kept his eyes on his shoes as he said this, and when he finished, looking up nervously, he found Sabrina staring at him, mouth agape, with slightly wetter-than-normal eyes.

"Do you mean it?" she asked quietly.

"I'm sorry Sabrina," he said "I'll try my best."

She walked up to him and threw her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder. Instantly, his arms wrapped around her back, and he pulled her close.

"So this is sincere Puck," she whispered in his ear "I like him."

He chuckled. "Yeah well, don't get used to him. He almost never comes out."

"I'm going to have to thank mom for knocking some sense into you."

"You should. She's a freaking terrifying woman I'll tell you that now. She really loves you, you know."

"Yeah, I do."

"Sorry for what I did."

She leaned up to kiss his cheek, and smiled. "Yeah well, as long as you try to not do it so much, I'll try to not get so angry when you do."

He grinned, and held out his pinky "Promise?"

She took his finger in hers. "Promise."

...

The maturity Puck displayed that day was incredibly rare, and it was the sheer rarity of this moment that transformed this experience from one that healed them, to one that ultimately poisoned them.

They tried, they really did, to keep their promise, but eventually that was broken, and they reverted back to their old ways. They fought, screamed, yelled, and made up. But when they made up, it was different to what it was like when Veronica talked to him. The ones after that lacked the contemplation, the reflection, the thought; it was all heat, and passion, and energy.

It was the outcome of desperate, desperate love, the burning desire to want to make it work out, but the sad conclusion that they knew it wouldn't. It was the fire inside them which made their arguments so much worse, so much more painful, but made their reconciliation that much more loving, and powerful. Even that changed though, and the past memory of Puck's one glimpse of compassion tainted it, rose her expectations to impossible heights, until finally the cons outweighed the pros, the low dragged far further than the highs, and they talked.

Finally.

He knew it was coming, and he wholeheartedly agreed, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. But then again, neither was she. They loved, loved each other intensely but their personalities were too incompatible, they were too stubborn for their own good, and it just wasn't going to happen.

"I'm sorry Puck."

"I'm sorry too Sabrina."

...

That night, they lay in their respective beds, and they began to consider, to wonder about how it could have happened, even though by then it was far too late. A single tear slid down their cheeks, and an overwhelming sense of regret pooled in their hearts.

Stop it, they thought furiously, you wanted this. You knew why you did, you knew it was the best thing to do. That relationship did nothing more than destroy us, it was the right thing to do. They fell asleep with thoughts like that whirling in their minds, to fitful and confusing dreams.

...

He left, one day, in the middle of the night, without so much as a note to alert the family. Of course everyone was concerned for his safety, but they all knew why he did it. He did it to get away, to flee, to escape from the person whom he both hurt and had been hurt by. It hadn't done anything though, only amplified the pain in which he felt.

He missed her, being so far away from her, confusion and disorder and chaos wreaking havoc on the delicate insides of his mind. He knew they had broken up, knew that they would never work out, but he loved her, and she loved him, and the knowledge of knowing that cut him even more, the potential of a relationship remaining forever unsatisfied.

So he came back, flew in an agitated fit of frenzy, through the multi-locked front door, and swept her up. And in that moment, he felt whole, but not whole, elated at being in her reach, in her touch, but despairing at the idea that they could never be together. She was in his arms, he was in her arms, and they were together.

_So why did they feel so alone?_

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><p><strong>The ending is a little random I know, I hope it wasn't too unrealistic or sudden. I had to rewrite it like three times because it just didn't sound right and this one is probably the best one I could come up with. Anyway, thanks for reading and please review.<strong>


	11. Dark

**This story is based off the title of the story 'Dark' by anniepear, although it isn't related to it at all. It's a great story, I really recommend checking it out. Also, Puck and Sabrina are ridiculously out-of-character sorry about that, but who doesn't like it when they are? Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Dark<strong>

The problem with the dark is that you can't see in it. And that disorientates some people, because they lack a grasp of the situation. Sabrina has no idea what's happening. And she can't plan. She can't think. The darkness closes in on her. There's a tight clenching in her throat. The drip of water. The scuttle of an insect. She rasps out a gasp, as cold constricting air floods her lungs. She cannot see. And it terrifies her.

There's a click. Bright light floods the room, and strong arms surround her. She doesn't even notice the tears on her face, until a warm nose nuzzles into her neck, and she feels cool liquid slip down onto it.

"You alright, Grimm? We managed to fix the cables" a male voice asks, concern hidden beneath its tone.

She breathes, and leans back into his hold. "Yeah I'm fine." Turning, she looked up at the blonde man standing behind her. His normally grinning face is frowning, and the mischievous glint in his eyes has been replaced with worry.

"I knew we shouldn't have sent you in here," he mumbled into her hair, pulling her close, "you're still scared."

"I'm not" she insisted, pulling back a little as if to prove she was ok. "I was just a little nervous."

He snorted, and looked at her. "Yeah right," he said "you were freaking out. Crying around and everything. Now come on, let's get out of here. Marshmallow can finish searching" And before she could object further he slipped his arms around her and flew off, out of the small little crime scene that smelled of blood.

...

She was in her room, unwinding while reading an old journal, when there was a quiet knock on her door. Peering up curiously, it opens, and Granny Relda walks in.

"Hello, _liebling_" she says, smiling warmly.

"Hey, Granny" she replies, setting down the book for another time.

"Puck told me about this morning," she starts, "and I'm a little worried for you"

Sighing, Sabrina ran a hand through her hair "Its fine, Granny, honestly. It's nothing major."

"He said you were crying."

"Yeah well..." she tailed off, unsure of what to say "Look I can handle it alright?"

"Well regardless, I do not wish to put you in such a situation again. You are not to go investigating without at least Puck or Daphne with you. The risks are too great."

Sabrina flinched. Granny was starting to sound like her parents, treating her like a little kid. "I'm not five, Granny! I was a little scared! No big deal! Yes I may be a little bit afraid of the dark but so what? Everyone's got something they don't like!" She calmed down, after her sudden outburst, and her head dropped, panting.

"Well..." Granny hesitated "I suppose you are old enough to make your own choices. Alright fine you can continue mystery searching like normal. But, I want Puck to take you on some sessions with coping in the dark."

"What? But I don't need them!"

"It's either that, or no more searching. Your choice, _liebling,_" she said sternly.

Grumbling, Sabrina bit back the slew of curse words in her throat. "Fine," she spat out "I'll take the stupid lessons."

"Thank you _liebling_. Now wash up, it's time for dinner."

...

To be quite frank, Puck was probably one of the better choices for helping Sabrina. He was close enough to her that he could comfort her if she needed it, but fast enough that he could reach her in time if something happened.

The only problem was that Puck was more the 'throw-you-in-the-deep-end' kind of teacher. He wasn't like Snow, who was more compassionate and understanding and more suited towards helping someone like Daphne get over a fear. No, Puck's first lesson was shoving Sabrina into an unlit room and waiting to see how long she would last. Needless to say she was not pleased.

And that was where the trouble was.

...

She knew Puck was just outside the door. She knew that the room was empty, that there was nothing creeping around beside her. She told herself that constantly, as she stood quietly in the centre of the dark space.

And yet, cold thoughts continued to swirl in her head, and she felt the alien feeling of fear build inside her. She closed her eyes, but was disconcerted to find no difference in vision, and slumped onto the ground. _You're weak_ she told herself _It's just the dark. There's nothing there. Why are you so scared?_ But no matter what she said, the lack of sight unnerved her.

It got under her skin, her defenses, pooling around the cracks and bends of her psyche. It horrified her, and finally she felt tears slip down, and she cried. They slid down her cheeks, and a weak sob escaped her lips, and Puck flew from the table he had been observing from, transforming quickly in the air, to her side.

Whispering into her ear, he held her face in his hands, kissing her softly, over and over again. He clicked his fingers and magic orbs on the ceilings glowed to life, and he returned his attention to her, as the tears slowly subsided. "It's ok it's ok it's ok," he said soothingly, rubbing her back 'I won't do it again, I'll think of another way, we'll start off slower. Don't cry, please don't cry, I hate it when you cry..."

Finally, she composed herself, and punched him, hard. Wincing and rubbing his sore arm he helped her up and they walked out, Sabrina muttering loudly at the insensitive stupidity of her boyfriend.

...

The next time she entered that room, he went in with her. Holding her hand, despite her adamant protests that she wasn't a six year old crossing the street, they stepped in together, the door creaking ominously shut behind them. The last window of light disappears as the orbs die down, and he hears a quiet hiss, and her fingers tighten.

He squeezes her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles gently, signalling to her that he's there. She relaxes slightly, but the muscles in her forearm remain taut, and finally they begin to tense harder, harder, harder, as the sense of panic builds inside her, despite his constant movement.

Eventually she can take it no more and, following his arm, she falls into his welcoming embrace, as the beautiful sound of clicking fingers reverberate around the room, and the lights return. They are able to leave much sooner then, and as she exits she sees the stopwatch counting away. She had managed to stay twice as long as she did last time.

...

He continues to go with her, for a few more times after that. Every time the door swings close and the lights fade he hears her start slightly, without fail, but slowly she begins to recover faster. He hears her breathing steady out, although there are always slight spikes, and once even believes he can hear her foot tapping impatiently, his headstrong girlfriend beginning to emerge in the dark.

Many minutes pass, long, drawn-out, and above all boring, until Puck's attention span finally wears thin and he snaps his fingers, the time ending. He looks over and sees her looking vacantly at him, not a flicker of panic on her features. He smiles at her, and she smiles back, and he knows he's almost done, that she's almost over it.

...

The next time she enters alone, not even with Puck staying nearby in fly-form. He has an ear pressed to the door though, and the stopwatch between his fingers, as he waits and listens agitatedly.

She does not panic. She is nervous, of course, but she is not panicking. Her ears remain attentive, checking for any sudden sounds, but they do not scare her, and she does not , she files them away, estimating their sources, cataloguing them away in her detective mind. Her hands remain calmly by her side, loose and flexible, but liable to attack if anything startles her.

She is, as always, on her guard, and God help whoever tries to fight her now. Her senses are sharper now, heightened by the dark, hackles rising and instincts awake, and the fear in her is somewhat diminished, diluted slightly by the burning fire within her. She is not at ease in the dark, but she is certainly alert, and for now, that's all she needs.

...

To celebrate her overcoming of her fear, Puck decides to take her out to dinner.

Without light.

She must eat without seeing, converse without seeing, and attempt to have a good time, without seeing.

He thinks its a brilliant idea, and quite fitting. She does not, but goes along with it anyway, when she sees the hopeful grin on his face. It doesn't go that bad, actually. Feeling around for her french fries was quite a hassle, and there was no chance she was refilling her milkshake without a torch at least, but there is something oddly refreshing about not being able to see him.

She can feel his warm leg pressed up against under the table, and hear his voice, so she isn't scared, but she begins to develop a deeper appreciation for sound, and the way he talks. The hidden smile within his tone, the light easy way in which he speaks, even the smooth transition of letters and words, from vowel to consonant and consonant to vowel, verb to adverb to adjective to noun, and all the way back again. She feels herself falling in love with him a second time, the sharp tang of salt on her tongue as she chews her food, and he suddenly drops his burger and swoops her up.

Laughing he kisses her, long and hard, for reasons she does not know but does not care about either, as she is caught up in the moment. He tastes like condiments, like mustard and barbecue sauce and whatever else he happened to be eating, but there is something else, something sweet. Apples, maybe? He pulls away slightly and smiles against her lips, chuckling.

Pecking her on the nose he pulls her closer, and she presses her nose into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. He took a shower before, and she can smell the soap he used, and the cologne he put on afterwards. But beneath that artificial sweetness is something earthier, more muddy. He smells like dirt, and rain, and snow, and wood, and it smells so much like him. It is undoubtedly him, and she loves it, and she loves him, and somehow the fact that she can't see has reminded her of the fact.

She kisses his temple as they remain hovering there, curled up tightly in each other's arms, as the darkness swirls around them, poking, touching, but never hurting. Not then, not ever. Not while they're with each other.

_Because when you can't see, that is when your eyes truly open. That is when distraction fades from the mind, and obscurity is clouded over with clarity. Darkness may be the absence of light, but within it is also the presence of something deeper, something unknown, something that hints at a person who is more than what they seem on the surface. It is this unknown deepness that makes us human, makes us who we are. It is this unknown deepness that makes us beautiful. Beautiful, and loved._

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><p><strong>This one was a bit more difficult to write, and the ending may seem a little weird, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Review with any comments or thoughts on this story, and thanks for reading.<strong>


	12. Simple

**This one wasn't really based off a prompt, I just randomly thought of it while I was brushing my teeth and just had the sudden urge to get the idea down. I hope I didn't write it too badly, hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

><p><strong>Simple<strong>

Sometimes Sabrina wishes everything wasn't so complicated. I mean, who can blame her? She's lived a life filled with twists and turns, mystery and shadow, cloak and dagger, and it's all so _exhausting_. It takes a lot of energy to constantly be on your guard, to constantly assess and defend and mature, and by the end of it she's just tired. She just wants everything to be simple, to have a straight road for once, and her sleep that night surges with dreams. Plain, easy, simple dreams.

X

Breakfast is a strange affair. Because the food is no longer strange. Granny bustles out of the kitchen holding a plate of pancakes, and a bottle of maple syrup sits on the table. Its sweet (she checks carefully), amber-coloured, and completely normal. Drizzling it all over her food, she eats with barely concealed delight, revelling in the moment. It tastes so common, and unoriginal, and there's nothing there that distinguishes them from the human family's food next door. She loves it.

...

At school, she closes her locker door and grins. On the way there (she drove. Drove! In a proper car! No wings, no rusting heap of a machine, a nice normal car. It's great) she'd looked suspiciously out of the window, and had seen nothing. No concealed Everafters, no clumsily executed glamour charms, just plain, boring humans. They walked across the street, some by themselves, some in packs, some moving with their heads held high, others with shoulders dropping and gazes on the ground. Its diverse but similar at the same time, two sides of the same human coin, instead of six faces from some magic Everafter die. She loves it.

...

When she invites her friends home, in order to help them with their homework, her father strolls slowly to meet them. His eyes are content and relaxed, soft with the gaze of a father caring for her child, and there's no spark of wariness in them. His detective instincts are not flaring up, he is completely at ease, and for once Sabrina glimpses at the man underneath the shell, the man so longing to escape. The one who jokes and smiles and trusts, who swims easily in the river of life, instead of clinging stubbornly to that one rock, sharp and painful and still. He is free now, and happy. She loves it.

...

That night Puck asks her out on a date. It's spontaneous, without any forewarning, just a casual offer to go out to dinner with him. She accepts, a little surprised and careful about what he's planning. There's no way he's just doing this because he wants to right? There's got to be a catch. It runs smoothly. He takes her out to the Blue Plate Special, where they order burgers and fries from Farrah, and talk. Just talk. There's some hand holding, but the night is mostly conversational, all voices and speech and vocals. He does not insult her, or laugh at her, or mock her, rather he compliments on her appearance ("You look nice") and listens intently to what she says.

He is a complete gentleman, polite but personal, sweet yet funny, and completely out of character. It should worry her, send alarm bells ringing, and it does. A bit. Mostly she's too charmed to think straight, so thrown by this sudden behaviour that all warnings go out the window, and she settles down to enjoy herself. The date is simple, no pranks or special events or sudden midnight walks under the moonlight, just a nice, straightforward dinner. He pays for the meal, kisses her before going off to bed, and leaves her smiling by the door. The perfect boyfriend. She loves it.

...

That day was simple. It was the representation of her desires, a glance into what the simple life of Sabrina Grimm would look like. She loves it. She keeps watching. She hates it. Because it becomes so _boring_. The days draw on, never changing, never ending, a slow monotonous ball rolling constantly. There is nothing special, nothing that stands out, just the same things over and over again. No presence of magic, no fairy wings or glowing pixies, just... just _this_. And now she finally realises that this is more exhausting, that the sheer lack of action saps her strength even faster than anything else could, that the only thing more tiring than keeping her arms up is letting them fall. She opens her eyes. She wakes.

X

Instantly her nostrils are assaulted with the smell of _something_, she has no idea what it is and she has no intention of finding out. Judging by the loud bustling downstairs and the cheerful tune being whistled, she guesses it what's for breakfast, and her stomach turns. There's a quiet knock on her door and it opens, to reveal her father peering carefully in.

"Hey girls, time to get-" he stops, and his eyes harden. "I'm going to kill him" he mutters.

"What? What?" Sabrina asks. Her father points to the bathroom and she ambles in to find a green haired girl looking back at her from the mirror.

"Puck!" she yells, running downstairs to the kitchen, to find him sniggering quietly. She lunges at him and he jumps up, flying out of reach. Completely ignoring the curious gaze of Hamstead, who had just arrived to report a case, as well as the unladylike swearing of her mother outside (throttling the steering wheel of the car as the engine failed spectacularly to turn over), she grabs a broom and starts swatting at him, shouting curses. He continues laughing loudly and soon her anger dissolves, as she starts laughing with him. The broom drops and he lands, fingering her long hair.

"Green looks good on you Grimm" he says, and she smiles. This is what her life is about, about keeping her on her toes, and in a way, it relaxes her. She may walk on eggshells, but she walks flat-footed, stealthily so that they do not break, but comfortably enough that she is at ease. She hovers within the blurred region of life, between order and chaos, magic and normalcy, human and Everafter. And now, at long last, she understands one thing. She loves it.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. I know the plot is really cliche and the dream thing's been done a thousand times over, but it was the easiest way to do the story, and I didn't think it looked too bad. Anyway, thanks for reading, please review.<strong>


	13. Absence

**This one's really short. I have no idea where it came from, but it just did. I hope you enjoy it.**

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><p><strong>Absence<strong>

Puck was leaving. He had to leave. The wonders of the outside world beckoned to him, called to him in sultry voices. He had spent years cooped up in this house, and now he longed for freedom, for escape. Sure there were distractions, things he liked to do, people who he cared about, small (or big) things which momentarily sated his desire to disappear.

But in the end, they did not work, and he found himself on the doorstep, a plane ticket shoved in his pocket, two suitcases standing up beside him. There were tears when he left, of course, both from the occupants and leaver of the house, but along it was a sense of inevitability. They had all seen it coming, their detective minds had pieced together the parts of the puzzle, and as usual come up with the right conclusion.

That didn't make it any less sad though, and before he left Sabrina pulled him aside and told him one thing.

_Don't forget me_.

_I won't_, he promised.

And then he was gone.

...

In the years that followed, new memories were made, and old ones were forgotten. Puck traveled the world, delighting in the new cuisines he found, or the new rides he went on, or the strange hotels in which he lived. He bounced all over the world, like a bee in a flower patch, buzzing and humming and just plain living. He couldn't be happier.

Sabrina, though, stayed at home, continued her work, devised new strategies, solved her mysteries. She looked into old books, researched events recorded in the numerous diaries she found, recorded events of her own. She was content, and though her fire remained, her edge still sharp like her sword, she discovered how to relax, and find peace. She was like a single flower, surrounded by hundreds of other flowers, growing, respiring, and just plain living. She couldn't be happier.

And then bee met flower, plane met airport, Puck returned to Sabrina. And it started to rain.

...

They had forgotten each other. Two years of experiences, of rivalry and companionship, of love and romance, all lost. Scattered amongst the trees, trodden underfoot by their new lives, they had faded from their minds. Gone was the clarity of vision, the nostalgia of memory, all that was left was the shadow of a former life, an empty hollowed-out husk where a healthy body once thrived. Their reconciliation was cool, polite, not particularly hostile or threatening, but not warm or friendly either.

It was as if they had never met, as if they never knew each other, as if they had never fought or argued or loved before.

...

Absence does make the heart grow fonder. But it also makes the heart forget. Because nothing can withstand the everlasting presence of time, that cold constant wind that batters against your defense, against your mind. It pushes everything to the side, and in floods the _new_, that continuous surge of different experiences, which ripples and pulses and thrums like water.

I wish I could say they were sad, that tears slid from their cheeks, or apologetic words were exchanged. But then I would be lying. Because everything had been thrown aside, cast to the ground.

And whatever was down there, drowned.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. This one's really short I know, But I couldn't of any other way to continue it without ruining it, so I just ended it there. This is a new take on Puck and Sabrina's relationship, so tell me what you think. Please review.<strong>


	14. Time

**This story is very dark. Like, VERY DARK. I mean, there is a lot of death. A lot of lot of death. Suicide and everything. So if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, or just don't like reading about death in general, I would not advise reading this. For those of you who don't mind reading about this kind of stuff, I hope you enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Time<strong>

Hovering up there, the cold wind whistling in his ears, he watched. He observed. He looked down at the world, at the specks of land on this vast expanse of water. And with ethereal wings he flew ever higher, tears streaming down his face. Were they tears of joy? Or tears of despair? Perhaps they were both, perhaps he felt both emotions, roiling inside him. He wafted like a feather on the wind, fragile and light, and went ever higher. Ever higher.

X

The first to leave him was Granny. She had refused immortality, refused the chance to live forever. She had deemed it unnatural, insisted that she would live out her life as she always had. As a mortal. They tried, of course, to persuade her to join them, Mr Canis especially, but she had remained adamant. She would have her time on this planet, she said, and then she would be together with Basil. And together they were. Together, at last.

...

The Wolf surged in her, in crooked powerful waves, with gnashing teeth and a bloodstained tongue. It clawed at her defenses, at the fragile shields of her mind, large horrible scores left behind, deep scarring marks. She fought him back though, pushed against him with all her might, and Papa had helped. Through their multiple meditation sessions they did it together, sent him back to the shallow pit in which he slumbered, focused not on the dark but on the light, on the vibrancy of human goodness, instead of the consequences of that same human's sin.

But one day the Wolf lunged, and she flinched. And when she came to, when she saw Papa lying there, surrounded in a pool of red, she screamed. Screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Until she felt the rope tighten around her neck, and she fell silent.

...

Grief can do terrible things. It can ruin you, distort your memory and your mind, make yourself feel as if you're only observing, instead of actually doing. You're only watching yourself walk, can only hear the muted thump of bare feet on pavement, you cannot feel the hard ground beneath your toes. It numbs you, a horrible sensation of nothingness, and as you trudge through life you touch everything, as fast and frequently as possible, as you long for the sensation of sensation, and yet you feel nothing.

And that is what grief is. A vicious neverending cycle, as desire follows failure, over and over again, until finally you do not care, until finally desire falls, and all that is left is failure. Jake 'felt' this, as he mourned for her, for Briar, mourned so much that eventually he went full circle, and he changed. He saw but did not register, heard but did not listen, touched but did not feel.

That's why when Daphne asked him how to use this glowing ring, he just nodded and mumbled incoherently. He never felt the force of the explosion, the heat of the searing flame, did not hear her screams, or the popping of burning wood, nor did he see the floor rushing to meet him, or the enclosing darkness. All he did was nod, like a broken toy. And broken he was. Was.

Now, he is nothing. Not broken, not fixed, not shattered, not whole.

He is nothing, and he dragged Daphne down with him.

...

The only thing worse than failing to finish something is living in the knowledge that you could have prevented something, and failed to realise the opportunity. She felt as if she was responsible for their deaths, felt as if she had just realised just how important _that_ day was she could have stopped Daphne from going over.

Because now, the day her daughter and brother died is the same day in which Briar had died. She should have known, should have been more sensitive to the feelings of her brother, and how dangerous and careless he was. But she didn't, and now they were dead, and it ate at her. She was helpless, she could do nothing. She, Veronica Grimm, the most assertive, motivated woman, could do nothing.

She was reminded of this every day, and every day she wilted a little inside. She could not move on, could not progress from this pain, and this grief, and this immense self-fury. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and they started to move closer and closer, pushing into her.

Her husband stood by her, trying as hard as he could to console her, comfort her, tried as hard as he could to push apart the two menacing figures, inching ever closer. But his efforts were in vain, and his strained arms began to shake, and so did hers, and finally they let go and they hugged.

And they were crushed.

...

She had lost everyone. All the people she had ever loved had died, gone through suicide or accident or madness. Her grandmother, her sister, her uncle, her mother, her father. All lost.

And she very nearly lost too.

She very nearly avoided the sweeping fingers of Death, very nearly avoided the corruption of evil, the blistering fervour of fire, the closing vice of helplessness.

She missed it because at the last moment, someone pulled her to the side. Someone let her cry into their shoulder, kissed her until her lips were swollen, hugged the heaving breath out of her.

He was the reason she made it through, the only reason she managed to forge her way out of the labyrinth, out of that maze of suffering, into the sunshine outside.

And something followed the glory of that sunshine, the clear pure heat it produced, a different kind of heat.

The heat of dragon flame.

Her upraised sword melted, became a puddle of liquid metal, and she crumbled.

...

He could not continue. His feet failed him, aching legs trembled, as well as his wings, and he fell down down down, hard. He could feel but could not feel, as he withdrew into himself, into his heart and soul and mind. And he was horrified by what he saw. Or rather, by what he could not see.

Everything around was tainted, touched by death, not one happy memory remained, not in a single crevice, or hole, or shadow. All that was left was memory, the memory of pain, and the memory of corruption. He tried to turn back, but he couldn't. The door was locked behind him, and he lacked the strength to fight his way out, lacked the drive and the motivation, and the reason.

Because now he could no longer think, only remember, only re-experience events which plagued his dreams, daydreams as well, haunted him in sleep and waking. And it tortured him. But finally, even that ended, and he lifted himself off the ground as the knife flashed towards his heart, red and slick and steady in his shaking fingers.

X

Time can make the body heal. But it can also make the body hurt. For time devours all, consumes everything that it touches, on its insatiable quest for nourishment. It can never feel full, only hungry, and even when it eats, its eyes continue roaming for more. _More_.

Puck realised this, as he drifted above, and he cried. For he knew he was leaving everything behind, letting them roam around on their own. But also, he was going to be reunited with everyone, with his family and his friends and with _her_. And for that he smiled, both sadly and happily, and looked upwards.

He would be with them again.

Be with them, forever.

* * *

><p><strong>This is probably the darkest story I've ever written. And the most amount of death I've ever written about. I actually got the idea from a book I was reading which I borrowed from a friend about Greek and Roman myths, and there was this great quote 'Time, the devourer of all things'. So I was thinking about that quote and how interesting and philosophical it is, and it got me thinking about immortality, and how even Everafters can die. Thus, this story was born. Anyway, I hope you liked it, I tried to make the ending as optimistic as I could under the circumstances, please review.<strong>


	15. Shopping

**I swear I should just change the title to 'Puck and Sabrina oneshots' because all the stories seem to be about them. So this one's a lot lighter and happier than the last chapter. It's more... chatty, or more casual than the last one? Anyway tell me what you think.**

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><p><strong>Shopping<strong>

Who likes to shop? Ok, that was a bit of a rhetorical question- many people like to shop, but Sabrina and Puck were not one of them- they thought it was impractical and time-consuming. I mean, who wants to spend hours looking at dresses and pants when you have some perfectly good clothes at home? Unfortunately, one of the problems of living together is that you have to go food shopping every now and then, or risk starvation. So, grumbling, Puck allowed himself to be dragged down to the car, as his girlfriend drove them down to the supermarket.

...

There is always clamour in a store. Unless you have insomnia, a lack of sense, or such poor time management that you need to go down to a shop in the dead of the night, you will always find people bustling around, searching for groceries, scanning barcodes, and just generally creating a lot of noise. That day was no different. As soon as the couple walked into the building, they were instantly assaulted by two things: the frigid sensation of air conditioning, and a thundering barrage of noise.

"Let's get out of here as soon as possible," Sabrina whispered into his ear.

"Yep," he replied and, grabbing her hand, whisked them away into the countless echoing alleys.

...

"Oh. My. Gosh." Sabrina said, as she watched her (soon to be ex, if he continued acting like this) boyfriend throw bag after bag of junk food into their trolley. Chips, biscuits, lollies, popcorn, anything that could be eaten in front of a TV was just getting tossed in there randomly, and it was sickening to watch.

"Puck," she said, "are we really going to eat all that?"

He looked up. "Oh did you want something as well?"

She slapped a palm to her forehead. "Puck, we're not buying all that."

"Why not?" he whined.

"Because we're not made of money, Puck. And besides, you'll get sick eating all that."

He puffed out his chest. "I am an Everafter! Everafters don't get sick!"

"They will if they eat all of this junk."

He huffed, and looked down at the overflowing trolley. Sighing, he glanced again at Sabrina's stern frown and began to reluctantly return the food to their shelves. "Can't do anything..." he mumbled. "Have to listen to her all the time... Unfair..." When he had finally finished, he turned around and said flatly, "vegetables next."

...

Taking into account Puck's blatant dislike towards good health and an active lifestyle (even though he spends about half his time flying around), it was of no surprise that he hated this part of the trip more than he did anything else. All words were said with a monotonous, robotic voice, as if he couldn't even be bothered to put some kind of feeling into his voice, and finally Sabrina had had enough.

"Puck, stop being so difficult."

He was instantly snapped out of his stupor, and glared at her. "Difficult? How am I being difficult?"  
>"You sound like a 5 year old who just got his toys taken away."<p>

"I do not! I just don't like this kind of food is all."

"Well for whatever reason, stop acting so immature and brighten up a little bit."

"No," he said, and stuck out his tongue. "You can't make me."

"Oh for goodness' sake," she muttered and, leaning up, pressed her lips to his. Instantly his arms went around her waist as he started kissing back, and her hands went into his hair. When they finally pulled apart, Puck had a goofy grin on his face, and even Sabrina started smiling.

"Happy now?" she said, breathlessly.

"Yeah," he nodded dumbly, gasping a little, before suddenly calling, "next up, fruit!"

...

"Fruit," Puck muttered, as he walked along the aisle. "Fruit fruit fruit fruit fruit. Where is the damn fruit?"

"Puck, there's a sign saying fruit right next to you."

He turned, and saw to his surprise a giant board, with 'FRUIT' spelt out in thick black letters. He blushed. "Right, I knew that," he said, and flipped open his notebook in a poor attempt to hide his embarrassment. "It says apples."

She leaned over in front of him, her shoulder brushing against his chest, and selected four shiny red apples. Loading them in a bag, she straightened up and turned to the man beside her.

"Done. Next?"

"Oranges," he said, and the process was repeated (but with different fruits this time, of course) and they soon had several full bags stacked neatly in their trolley.

"Right," Puck said breezily, "onto frozen foods." And away they went.

...

Finally they arrived home, unsteadily unlocking the front door as they stumbled in with laden arms. Groaning, Puck dropped the bags of groceries down onto the kitchen bench and collapsed on the couch, yelling,

"Well thank God that's over! That was horrible!"

"Yeah yeah I don't like it as well. Now get up and help me put these away."

"Ugh," he grunted in disgust, and moved over to the kitchen to help Sabrina. A few minutes later they finished, and Puck returned back to lying down, Sabrina sitting beside him with his legs in her lap. She was scanning the receipt, making sure nothing was missed, and quickly checking how long the food would last them.

"I'm guessing..." she hesitated as she quickly added up numbers in her head, "that this'll be enough for about two weeks maybe? And then we gotta go back."

"Aww..." Puck moaned, and pushed himself up into a sitting position "Do we have to?"

"Yes Puck. And you're coming with me."

"But I don't want to!"

"Tough. Now budge over."

Muttering darkly he moved over, and she got up. Suddenly long arms went around her and she felt herself being lifted off the ground, and a warm nose nuzzled into her neck.

"What if I refuse to go?" Puck whispered into her ear.

She smiled, and pretended to think for a minute. "I'll persuade you."

"How?"

She flashed a grin, and leaned her head closer to his. "You know how."

He chuckled, and moved his mouth to hers, lips twitching upwards. "Two weeks is quite a long time right?"

"It is."

And then they were kissing.

* * *

><p><strong>Was the ending too sudden? Like did you guys view it as a sudden moodswing, or did you not mind? I tried to keep them in-character, but I'm entirely sure if I succeeded. Thanks for reading, and please review.<strong>


	16. Bullseye

**And yet another Puck and Sabrina story, sorry I know I should write more about the other characters but these are so much easier to do. I know I also haven't updated in a while sorry, I ran out of ideas and I had to skim some other stories to get inspiration. Anyway, thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

><p><strong>Bullseye<strong>

Puck's decided to take archery. Well not decided, per say, more like he was offered a challenge by Mustardseed. If Puck can score a perfect bullseye which isn't a fluke shot, Mustardseed will try and persuade Titania to lay off Puck's absence from the kingdom for a few more years. Plus, he may or not have insulted Puck's shooting skills and wounded his inflated pride. Puck accepted, figuring that if he can fight with a sword, what's a stringed stick and some sharper sticks going to do?

I mean, he'll never use it (who needs to shoot when they have wings?), but it's a hobby and everyone's happy because that means they can wake up in the morning and not wonder about whether their slippers are filled with goo or not. Surprisingly, he actually put a lot of effort into it, spending what seems like every day practicing.

The only problem? He sucks. A lot.

It's almost pitiful to watch him try, to watch him fire arrow after arrow after imprecise arrow and see him completely impale the tree standing two metres to the right of his target. And to the left of his target. And once, even above his target.

So one day Sabrina sighs and straps on her shoes to help him, to see if she can maybe manage to get the arrow within a one metre radius of the bullseye.

...

"Is there an invisible stand here that I don't know about?"

Puck lowered his bow and glared at her "What?"

"Is your goal to try and completely miss the red circle over there?"

"Why are you here Grimm?" he sighed, turning away.

Sabrina frowned. _Wow. He's more annoyed than I thought._ "I'm here to help you."

"I don't need your help." he replied flatly

"Really?"

"Really."

"Hit the target and I'll admit you don't need my help."

"Why should I?"

"To prove your point."

"I don't need to prove my point."

"Just shoot the arrow Puck."

"No."

"Shoot it."

"No!"

"Shoot it!"

"No!"

"Shoot!"

"Fine!"

In one rushed, broken movement he raised the bow and fired. The arrow went wide and, grimacing, Puck turned back to Sabrina.

"Ok yes I can't shoot!"

"Exactly. Which is why I'm here."

He snorted. "Oh really? And what are you going to do?"

And so the lessons began...

...

"Keep your back straight and feet flat on the ground when you're shooting. You're slouching a bit when you're aiming and it weakens your draw." She walked over to him, placing her hands on his stomach and back and straightening him up. She didn't seem to notice the barely-visible hint of red in his cheeks, and stepped back.

"Good." she nodded. "Now use the muscles in your shoulders and upper back to pull. It makes it easier for you to keep the arrow steady and allows you to retain power." She put her hands on his back and showed him which muscles to tighten and which to loosen, when and how to move them. "Stop tensing your shoulders so much. Keep them relaxed, otherwise the increased tension ruins the shot." She rubbed his shoulders, kneading into the muscle with her fingertips, and he sighed. Slowly, he felt himself unwind a little, and his grip slacked a little, the arrowhead pointing downwards a little, and she said quietly "Ok. Fire."

He did, and the arrow flew off, whistling in the air. It slammed into the target with a loud _thunk_, piercing the middle of the uppermost ring, and Sabrina nodded.

"You actually hit the target this time," she said, "now you just need to work on hitting the centre."

...

"The problem with your aiming is primarily the fact that you only use sight alone. All you're doing is lining up the arrow with the target and letting go. You need to imagine the actual flight of the arrow, otherwise you won't be able to account for factors like finger tremors or shaft curvature."

Puck grunted and, closing one eye, he carefully adjusted his aim just the slightest bit. Releasing his grip, there was a satisfying _twang_ as the bowstring shot back, and the arrow launched off, biting into the wood exactly halfway between the centre and the edge.

"Better," Sabrina said "keep practicing."

...

This continued for several days, with Puck inching closer and closer to that tantalising red dot in the middle, but no matter how hard he tried he never managed to actually pierce that small spot of colour. Many times he would hit just above it, or just below it, but at the last second his aim always failed him, and it wouldn't hit. Sabrina tried to help him, observing from a distance, correcting his flaws, inspecting the equipment to make sure they weren't faulty. But they weren't, and everything else was correct, so what was wrong? Finally though, she saw the problem, and strolled up to him.

"I know what's wrong." she said

"What?" Puck said, as yet another arrow missed, and he wiped the sweat from his forehead. "What am I doing wrong?"

"You're still too tense."

"Tense? I'm as relaxed as ever!"

"No you're not. Here, I'll show you. Assume firing position." he did, sliding the arrow back til his thumb was resting beneath his chin. Sabrina walked around him, peering closely at his back, neck, and shoulder, probing gently with her fingers.

"Here." she concluded finally, after several minutes of inspection, and placed her fingertips on the muscles extending down his neck and into his shoulders. "You're still tense. The rest of you is relaxed, but this part is still tight, and it's ruining your shot." She started massaging them, working as far as she could without hurting him, and slowly she felt his his shoulders lower just the slightest fraction. "Ok. Fire."

There was a loud _crack_, the arrow hit, and the target shuddered. They looked. The centre remained unpierced, instead there was a long projectile protruding just to the right of it. They both sighed. "I don't get it," Sabrina muttered "everything else is correct. This doesn't make any sense."

"Well think." Puck said curtly "There's got to be something wrong."

"Thank you for your helpful input Puck," she retorted "now be quiet." A few silent minutes passed, punctuated by several head shakes and thumb twiddles, while Puck plucked the arrow from the stand. Finally, Sabrina said "Ok I have an idea. But first shoot an arrow."

Frowning, Puck drew an arrow from his quiver and took aim, firing with a twitch of his jaw. The result was the same as before, but this time Sabrina make a noise of understanding, and tapped Puck on the shoulder. "I think I know what's wrong." she started "It's still tension, but instead of being physical it's mental." She paused here, to collect her thoughts. "Your body and muscles are relaxed, but you're still thinking too much. You're worrying too much about the outcome, and your growing frustration and anger is causing your aim to deteriorate."

"And you got all that from watching me shoot?" Puck said incredulously, his jaw dropping just a little. Sabrina shrugged.

"I'm a detective." she said simply.

"Right. Well anyway, how am I supposed to calm down?"

"That's the problem. You won't, unless you get that shot, and the only thing preventing you from getting that shot is your inability to calm down."

Suddenly, her eyes lit up.

"How badly do you want this shot?" she asked.

"Uh pretty badly. Why?"

"Because I have an idea."

"What's the idea?"

"Now hold on a minute. I want to know something. If I tell you, what do I get in return?"

"What do you want in return?"

"A month without pranking."

"A week."

"Three weeks."

"Two weeks. Tops."

"Deal. Ok so my idea was that I kiss you."

Puck blanched, and looked at her confusedly. "What?"

"I kiss you."

"What- But- How-" he stammered, a slight tinge of red rising in his neck. "Won't that just make things worse?!"

"Well think about it." Sabrina said, slightly red-faced herself. "If I kiss you, you won't be thinking about the shot anymore. Whatever you're feeling, be it anger or annoyance or other feelings..." her words broke here for a second, and the redness intensified in both their faces, but she quickly continued "then your body will do the shooting for you. You won't be worrying or thinking about it, instead you'll be distracted and relying on instinct and muscle memory. I think then, it'll work."

"So you're basically saying, I have to kiss you to get the shot?"

"Yeah I suppose."

Another silence.

"So..." Sabrina said finally, "you want to try it?"

"I guess..."

Holding the bow loosely in his fingers, he leaned in and their lips met. Instantly his grip slackened, the end of the bow touched the ground, and his free arm curled around her waist. Her hands went around his neck, and her fingers tangled in his hair. He tasted familiar, tasted like something sweet and fruity. Apples maybe? Finally, they broke apart and Sabrina whispered "Shoot."

In one fluid, practised motion, Puck drew, aimed, and fired, and there was a loud _smack_ as the arrow hit home. They grinned.

"Bullseye." Puck whispered back.

* * *

><p><strong>I really should do a story focused on some other characters shouldn't I? I probably should. But anyway, I tried my best to keep them in-character but I know there are some instances (particularly at the end) where I didn't do so well in that so sorry. Thanks for reading, hope you liked it, please review.<strong>


	17. River

**The prompt I've chosen is almost completely unrelated to the events of this chapter, aside from the main setting. I mainly wrote this story because I wanted to get this idea down on paper (or computer screen) before I forgot completely, so it's not very good sorry. Thanks for reading, though.**

* * *

><p><strong>River<strong>

Sabrina was lying in bed, her breath kept purposely shallow and even, when a clock beeped shrilly and she rolled over. **23:00**, it read. _Now_, she thought. Getting out of bed, she strapped on her watch, zipped a jacket on and crept out off the room, carefully avoiding the creaky floorboard. She sneaked quietly down the stairs, and had just turned the doorknob to the front door when a light flew past her face. _Pixie_, she thought, and mentally groaned, _which means-_

"What are you doing?" a voice demanded

_Puck_. She turned. "I'm going out, what does it look like?"

"Now?" He asked, almost incredulously

"Yes now."

"No."

"No?"

"Yes, no. You're not going out." His voice was flat, brooking no argument.

"Yes, I am." She replied coolly, although her eyes began to gleam dangerously.

"No, you're not."

"And why not?"

"You know why." He bit off the end of his words, and his face started to turn red, tension betrayed in every line of his body.

"I seem to have forgotten. Enlighten me."

"Because of this!" he shouted, losing all control, and slammed a letter down on the coffee table. On it, made out of cut-out newspaper letters, was a message. TO THE GRIMMS, it read, WE ARE COMING FOR YOU. "Because of this damn threat!"

"A threat! You're scared of a threat?!" she countered, yelling as well.

"Yes I am!"

"It doesn't even concern you!"

"It concerns _you_! That's close enough!"

"You're my boyfriend, not my dad!"

"I'm your protector!"

"You don't need to protect me! I'm not a little girl, I'm Everafter!"

"You have no powers! I do!"

"That doesn't change anything!"

"It changes _everything_!"

"I'm going out, whether you like it or not!"

"Well then, I'm going with you!"

"No you're not!"

"Yes I am!"

"You're staying here!"

"Make me!" He crowed triumphantly, knowing full well she couldn't. She may have a killer right hook, but he had wings and magic, and he was stronger than she was. There was no way she could force him to stay there, and they both knew it. She sighed, knowing she had lost.

"Fine." She grumbled "Lock the door on your way out."

"Nu uh," he shook his head "you'll just run away. You lock it." He stepped out into the cold air. Muttering at her foiled plan, she grabbed the key from the bowl beside her and walked outside, locking the door behind.

"Right," Puck said, rubbing his hands "Where to?"

"The Hudson River." She said flatly. "But I want to walk."

"No way. Who knows what could ambush you then?" and before she could protest he swept her up in his arms and flew off.

...

"Why do you like it here so much?' Puck said, looking down. They had taken their shoes and socks off and their feet were dangling in the water, slightly but pleasantly cold. "It's just grass and water."

She didn't reply, merely stared out into the distance with a stony silence.

"So now you're not talking to me?"

No response.

He chuckled, and picked at a dead leaf beside him. "I bet you think I'm being unreasonable, not letting you go out alone."

She turned to him, rolling her eyes as if to say _you think?_

"Well," Puck continued, unfazed by her unfriendly expression "I have a reason for it you know."

"Oh really?" she said with mock interest, "Pray tell, what is it?"

"Ah, at last she speaks" he smiles, but quickly looked down when she glared at him. "I'm worried for you," he continued quietly "I don't want you to get hurt."

She sighs. "I know."

"If you know, why do you get so angry?"

"Because frankly, it's insulting."

He frowns. "Insulting?"

"It's like you don't even trust me enough to take care of myself."

"I do trust you," he insisted "it's the people sending you threats who I don't trust."

She laughed quietly, and Puck grinned. "I took care of Daphne for 12 years," she started "I think I'll be ok with just myself."

"Great job taking care of her. It's not like I had to swoop in and save the day or anything."

"Way to ruin the moment." She deadpanned, but she couldn't stop herself smiling.

"It's what I love."

"Only that?"

"Well... maybe one or two other things..." he said uncertainly

"Like what?"

"Like the beautiful girl sitting next to me." His lips twitched upwards, and she blushed.

"Smooth." She complimented.

"Thanks." They lapsed off into comfortable silence, all the tension from the previous moment fading away, and he shuffled closer to her.

"I'm just afraid something's going to happen to you, and I won't be there to stop it." He said seriously.

"I know."

"I mean, what if that guy's got magic powers? What if he can breathe fire, or control minds or something? Then what?"

"Then you'll come in and save me I guess." She said gently

"But what if I can't? What if I'm not there to save you?" He was practically beside her now, and his voice started to raise in pitch as he got more and more worked up. "What if something happens? What if you get hurt, or they take you away, or they break your arm or something? What if they take Marshmallow to get to you, or Red, or your parents? What if... what if... what if you die?" He whispered that last sentence, and he pulled her into a hug.

"Puck," she said sternly but kindly "I'm not going to die."

"I hope not but what if? What if you do?"

"Puck."

"I don't think I'll be able to take it. No, I know I won't be able to take it."

"Puck." she repeated, with more force.

"I'll be living all alone, with no one to be with. The apartment will be so big without you."

"Puck!" she almost shouted, but he continued to ignore her.

"And what about Marshmallow, and Granny, and Jake? They'll go crazy..."

_Oh for goodness sake_ she thought, and pressed her lips to his, effectively cutting him off. His eyes widened and instantly he relaxed, looping his arms around her waist, while her fingers tangled in his hair. Closing his eyes he sighed a little into the kiss, and she pulled away gently, but still kept him close to her.

"Can I talk now?"

He nodded, eyes open but almost glazed over, as if he wasn't fully aware of his surroundings.

"I know you're afraid," she continued "and I know you're worried about me, and it's really sweet and all, but give me some credit Puck. I'm not some flimsy card soldier from Alice in Wonderland-"

"At least they're armed." He mumbled, but quickly looked down when she frowned at him. "Continue." he said.

"Point is, I know how to fight Puck. I may not be able to fly like you can, or command an army of magic pixies, but I'm fast and I'm strong, and I know how to punch and run. Plus, if they turn out to be bigger than normal, I carry a weapon around." She lifted up her shirt slightly to expose a knife tucked into her belt, and looked meaningfully at him, who blushed. "So calm down Puck," she finished "I'm not completely helpless."

"But-"

"No buts. I worry for you too Puck, whenever you fly up to tackle a giant bat or whatever I'm scared that you'll get hurt. But I trust you, enough to know that you'll take care of yourself and not do anything incredibly stupid. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, but-"

She cut him off "Then trust me to take care of myself."

He sighed, and pulled her closer. "Fine."

"Thank you."

He paused. "Do you want to go home now?"

"Sure."

He picked her up and together they left, wet feet dripping water while their shoes dangled from her fingers. Puck held her to his chest, her hands wrapped tightly around his back, and every time he breathed in he could smell her. He loved her, he knew that, and it was this love which built so much fear in him. Fear of her getting hurt, fear of something happening to her, fear that one day he would have let go off her even if he didn't want to.

_I wonder if this is what Henry went through_ he thought as he pecked her nose, and she smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>I know, the plot is incredibly cliche, and it's been done a thousand times, but I tried my best with it (even though it's not very good I know). I hope you didn't find reading this that much of a waste of time, but thanks for reading anyway. Please review.<strong>


	18. Window

**I like this story a lot more than the last one, even though it was a lot harder to write. Italics are amazing, by the way, they're the best addition to human communication except for the invention of the alphabet, and commas. Hope you enjoy reading this.**

* * *

><p><strong>Window<strong>

Have you ever broken a window? Maybe kicked a ball the wrong way, or thrown a rock and missed, and shattered that glass pane? Have you ever seen the small shards sticking out, sharp and deadly, in their tens and tens of thousands?

It's a chaotic sight, a sight that lightens the wallet in your pocket and adds to the crunch beneath your shoes, a sight that makes you want to rewind time and stop yourself from doing whatever it was you were doing.

But if you look carefully, if you look past the sharpness and the deadliness, and if the conditions are just right, then the breath catches in your throat, and your eyes begin to shimmer, because the beauty of it is overwhelming. The sprinkle of water drops from the lightly falling rain, the arcing rays of sunlight in their seven-coloured splendour, the wink of the glass as it catches even the most infinitesimal of sunbeams. Its a sight that holds you, turns your head in the gentlest of manners so that you can't help but stare, until your eyes, your heart, your very soul is filled to bursting with its beauty.

And then you cut your finger on it, and you're pulled back to the surface.

X

_She was the window, and he was the observer._ _He hovered there, on pink fairy wings, looking at the glass, at its smooth hard exterior_.

Of course he didn't just look, he tested it frequently, _knocked on it with curled knuckles_, threw paint bombs and water balloons at her. He laughed whenever he did it, smiled widely as he focused hour after painstaking hour meticulously planning what he would do to her.

She was the object of his attention, although whether it was positive or negative attention depended on who you asked, whether it was the girl drenched in goo, or her chuckling uncle nearby.

But he was always careful about what he did, despite his adamant protests that he did whatever he wanted, never daring to do anything that would actually hurt her, _anything that would actually cause a crack in the glass_.

Because he was her protector, after all. He was her protector, and he was here to stay.

_..._

_He was the observer, and she was the window. She was the window of tinted glass, cool and black, a one-way mirror of a person_.

She repelled conversation, repelled friendly ties, she was a person who harboured a lot of secrets, a lot of independence. She took care of herself, not the other way round, and it was very rare that someone managed to slip under her defenses. But there were people who could, her sister, her grandmother, her family, and a certain blonde fairy. A certain stupid, annoying, reckless fairy.

He pestered her constantly, used her as a target for his latest trick, but she trusted him, and he trusted her. He was one of the only people who could relate to what she went through, aside from her sister of course, the only one who could understand her problems with family ties and trust.

And he loved her, though he would never admit it, loved her so much that if something happened to her he would cry, _if something cut her he would bleed too_. He would hide it as well as he could, _nurse the wound himself_, but it was so blindingly obvious that his attempts seemed more half-hearted and pitiful than convincing.

So when that tragic horrendous news was delivered, _the red ball speeding towards her_, the news that made her crack, _made her break_, they could see him recoil too. Through the watery haze of their own tears they could see him wipe his eyes, _brush the splinters of glass out of his hair_, and stand up, limping over to clean up the mess in front of him.

...

A terrible accident, it was described, a horrific magical calamity. The death was instantaneous, they wouldn't have felt a thing.

But that didn't calm her, and when Daphne and Jake didn't come home that night there was a loud cry, _the ball completed its journey_, and she shattered. She was strong, she knew that, she wasn't supposed to break down and cry like this.

But Daphne was her only sister, someone she had come to depend on, she was her motivation and her drive. So when she died Sabrina lost her will, and she slumped dejectedly to the ground.

Puck, though, he was different. He had already dealt with tragedy before, the death of his father had seen to that, and while Jake had been like a parent to him, he had already learned how to deal with loss. When you live for over 4000 years you lose a lot of people, and though it still hurts and the cut still runs as deep as ever, you find yourself becoming desensitised to it, numbing yourself in a way, finding not a way to ignore the pain but a way to cope with it.

It made it easier for him, by just the tiniest fraction imaginable, and so when he saw her crying there his protective instincts surged, and he clambered up, wincing, to see what he could do.

...

When he saw her for the first time, he couldn't help but flinch. Here she is, surrounded by pain, _small shards of glass strewn on the floor_, and she's sobbing into her sleeve. It was like a complete inverse of Sabrina, some sick twisted perversion of the girl he loved, and he was afraid that if he touched her something bad would happen.

She was in such a delicate state that everything he did would be a risk, everything he did could lead to him getting hurt, _the blood welling up from the cut on his hand_, or her breaking down further, _the tinkle of glass as more continues to fall out of the frame through his clumsy fingers_, or perhaps even both happening at the same time.

But still he knelt by her, pulled her into a hug, _picked up the largest pieces he could find first_, and let her tears soak into his jacket. She clung onto him desperately, inhaling and exhaling, _the sunlight glinting off its remains so brightly almost as if the window pieces wants to be found_, drawing deep shuddering breaths as she tried so hard to compose herself, to stop the tears from falling.

...

She had said some nasty things, things she never would have said before, insult after insult after cutting insult ricocheting off the walls. _He hissed as the sharp edge broke his skin_. But still he continued, simply shook his head with almost sagely wisdom, because he knew that she was just lashing out at him, she didn't really mean it. _He simply sucked the blood off and continued_.

Or so he hoped. _But this time he was more wary, and he angled his body away a little from the shards_.

She was sorry, she hadn't meant to say it like that. It just felt so good to let it out, throw all her emotions out on someone who listens, someone who appears to care, and sometimes a lie comes out in the tumble of words, and by the time she's noticed its too late. So she apologises, claps her hands over her mouth, and he simply smiles and moves closer. _The pieces rustle on the ground almost apologetically, and the clear high melody is almost like music to him_.

Day after day he worked, balancing his normal life with his life with her, and sometimes the strain gets too him, the role of being an outlet is exhausting, and some days he just wants to sit down and rest. _Sweat trickles down his cheek as the hot sun beats overhead, and for just a second his step falters and his arms drop_.

But always, somehow, she pulls him back. She'll smile for the first time in weeks, or make a snarky comment which borders on friendly instead of hurtful, and he continues forward because he knows he's almost done. _He catches sight of the nearly-fixed window, winking enticingly in that same hot sun, and energy returns to his body and he moves closer_.

...

Finally, he's finished, and she's back to her normal self, or as normal as she'll ever be. Her jokes are less frequent, her fire more diminished, but the creativity within them remain pronounced, and her body still radiates that same hot spark of power. _The window is fixed now, shining bright as ever, and though the cracks are still there they are hairline, thin as paper_.

She's a little weaker than before, though her strength remains, she's still strong, and she lifts her head boldly to face all the obstacles in her life. _Raindrops spatter against the pane of glass, and though one small droplet trickles through, they are mostly deterred, and the inside remains dry_.

And finally he embraces her, pulls her body into his, embraces not just her strength but her weaknesses, the parts still broken and the parts which are fixed. _As he touches the cool surface of the glass he chuckles, running his fingers lovingly over all the cracks, all the fissures, and all the smooth unblemished parts in between_.

* * *

><p><strong>I feel like I was a little too ambitious in this story though. Like I tried too hard to keep the metaphor and the real events mixed up that it got too confusing. There are some writers who are very good at doing that (and they don't even need to use italics, its really clear even without them) though, like ember53608. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this (even if it might have been a little difficult to understand). Thanks for reading, and please review.<strong>


	19. Fiery Colours

**Actually a double word prompt this time, but that doesn't really change anything. I actually got the idea of autumn and hows its colours are really just a distraction from another fanfiction which I can't remember the title of, and I thought 'huh that's actually really clever'. I've been wanting to write a story focusing around that concept but I never really got around to doing it until now. Also, if you don't realise this, the part in between the '~;~' is a flashback. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>Fiery Colours<strong>

Fire, the most passionate of elements. It's the symbol of heat, the heat of the moment, the heat of emotion, the universal sign of showing someone that you're _feeling something powerful_.

So how is it that autumn gains the status of fire? By far, autumn is the most deceptive of seasons. It is the time when the leaves on the tree wither, they lose their ability to photosynthesise and drop off the branches in their multitudes, curled up and dead.

So how is it that these slowly dying objects suddenly embody the colours of one of the most potent and energetic elements of life?

Spring is more straightforward, its the green of life, of new life, with a haphazard arrangement of blues and purples and pinks to celebrate the variety in this life.

Winter, just as simple, it's absence of colour makes up its colour. The white of snow, or merely the transparent shimmer of raindrops, all accompanied with the bitter chill of wind and ice convey to the world that it is cold, that this is a time of hardship and trial, a time when those who are dying are pushed to the side in order to make room for the ones being born.

But autumn? Autumn is complex, autumn is _different_. Autumn is ashamed. Autumn is ashamed of its weakness, of its death, because in nature only the strongest survive, and anything showing the slightest hint of weakness is killed.

So to distract the eye they change their colour, morph into spatters of red and orange and yellow, in a vain attempt to pull the attention away from their crumbling bodies.

They are ashamed, and so they hide, they cower beneath a facade of bluster and fervour in order to prevent the world from seeing exactly what it is that's shivering behind the flame.

...

Puck fingered one of the leaves, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. Running his finger down the spine there was a row of small crackles, like kindling in the hearth, and a series of tiny lines spiderwebbed out from where his fingers had been. A cold breeze swirled around him and he breathed in deeply, wincing slightly as the cold air pricked the inside of his nostrils, but it soon lifted and he smiled.

_No use frowning about it_ he thought _I might as well enjoy it when I can_. He remembered the incident days ago, and the quiet words of Cobweb as he looked up from his sheet. "Twelve months to live_"_ he had said, and Puck kicked at the ground moodily. _4000 years of protecting myself from dragons and in the end the one thing that gets me is poison_.

~;~

He had been in Faerie when he had received the mortal wound, pushing back a sudden wave of rebels who had sworn personal vengeance on the royal family. A fairy had got him with a well-aimed arrow, and he had dropped from the sky like a stone. When he came to the cut had been dressed, but the grave look on his brother's face told him that his troubles were far from over.

"A cocktail of drugs, magic, and luck. You're living on borrowed time." Mustardseed told him "We've managed to hold the poison at bay, but the cocoon we held you in only delayed its spreading. Within a year your last magical barriers will fail and the poison will spread like wildfire. You'll be dead within seconds." He had paused after this, as if the words he were going to say next were harder to say than announcing his brother's imminent death. "Would you like me to contact Sabrina?"

Puck had shook his head quickly, lifting up both hands almost as if in an act of surrender. "No. No way. If you do she'll freak and start yelling at me and crying and I... I don't want to see that. No she'll know when it happens."

Mustardseed bit his lip, and looked at his brother doubtfully "Are you sure it's right? Hiding it from her like this?"

Puck shook his head again. "I can't take it any other way."

~;~

_She can't know_ he thought, as he paced moodily _If she finds out... something bad will happen to both of us_. He nodded, almost as if he was trying to convince himself _It's better I keep it from her, for her sake and mine._ His mind made up he dropped the leaf to the ground and walked home, whistling a false tune as the first drops of rain started to fall on his head.

**_Three months later_**

"Come on I want to show you something." Puck said, dragging her outside into the frigid air. The snow crunched underneath their boots, and Sabrina fiddled with her blindfold.

"What is it?"

"Well it won't be a surprise if I tell you now. Just stop fighting and keep walking."

"Ugh fine. But if this isn't a good surprise I'm going to punch you in the face."

"So violent." Puck chuckled and pulled her down the street and into a nearby park. "Ok," he instructed "stay still and don't move while I get the surprise ready." He moved away and Sabrina was left standing, alone with her thoughts. _I wonder what the surprise is_ and for just a brief instant she felt a spark of excitement. Suddenly, she frowned.

_Wait a minute, something's wrong_. She pondered on it for a second, and gave a small gasp. _It's awfully quiet. Shouldn't Puck be making a lot of noise tromping around like that? But if it's quiet it means he's trying to be sneaky. Which means-_ her thoughts were cut short as something horribly horribly _cold_ was heaped on her beanie and she whipped around, shaking snow from her shoulders and head and tearing off the blindfold.

"Puck!" she yelled at the grinning fairy standing in front of her, mittens wet and expression innocent.

"Yes?" he asked "I'm right here no need to shout."

"I'm going to... I'm going to..." At a loss for words, Sabrina ended her sentence by drawing back her fist and slugging him in the gut.

He doubled over, still laughing weakly, and bent low to the ground, sneakily grabbing a handful of snow.

"I'm so... I'm so... I'm so getting you back for that." He said in between breaths, head facing downwards to conceal his grin.

She folded her arms. "Oh really? How?"

"Like this!" he shouted and threw the snow into her face before running a short distance, cackling. Sabrina recoiled, but as the coldness stung her face she was suddenly reminded of a childhood memory, of her and Daphne and Puck running around throwing snowballs, and she grinned, scooping up a handful of snow.

"Oh it's on!" She gave chase and he fled, both of them chortling maniacally as they threw ball after ball of snow at each other.

Soon it was the other way round, with him pursuing her, and she was laughing so hard and having so much fun that she didn't notice the pained expression that occupied his face for a few minutes. Nor did she notice his quick decrease in speed, or sudden moments of fatigue. She didn't notice because he hid it well, and it was because he hid it well that it was such a big shock when it happened, such a big shock when everything around her came tumbling down.

**_Three months later_**

"You want us to go do what?" she said disbelievingly

"Go for a walk in the park. Since it's spring and all." He said, shrugging his shoulders

"Are you ok? Are you sick?" she said, putting her hand to his forehead, and he hurriedly pulled it off, suddenly nervous for a second.

"I'm fine. But come on let's go."

"Puck, you know we'll both hate it."

"It's either this, or have Marshmallow constantly pester us about how we never go on anything romantic for the rest of our lives."

She hesitated. "She does have trouble letting go of these stupid ideas."

"Exactly. So we just do our time now and get it over and done with."

"Since when did you become so mature?"

"Since your little sister called me last night and nagged at me to take you out somewhere nice. It wasn't very fun."

"I'll bet. Well... alright I suppose, if it'll get her off our backs. When do you want to go?"

"Now. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave." And without another word he picked her up and flew away.

All things considered the walk wasn't that bad. The sun was out, the flowers were in bloom with their multitude of colours, and a cool breeze slinked in occasionally to cool them off. They talked and walked, talked and walked for hours, their attention focused not just on the vibrant plants around them but on the person moving beside them, and a wide grin slowly built on their faces.

She laughed at a joke he made, he faked hurt and placed a hand over his heart when she said something particularly biting to him, a roll of blue eyes followed every wink from green ones, he casually draped his right arm around her shoulders, she curled her left arm around his waist.

She was so content, so relaxed and peaceful, that not once did she notice the short burst of laboured breathing he would suffer through after every laughing fit. Nor did she notice the lack of sparkle in his retorts, or the infrequent tremors in his left hand. She didn't notice because he hid it well, and it was because he hid it well that it was such a big shock when it happened, such a big shock when everything around her came tumbling down.

**_Three months later  
><em>**

"What is this?" Sabrina asked, her nose wrinkling as she walked out into the backyard.

"It's a trampoline, duh." Puck said, smiling as he lay spread-eagled on it.

"I got that thanks." She retorted, sarcasm dripping off the last word in that sentence "What I meant was why do we have a trampoline?"  
>"To bounce on."<p>

"Puck, it's the start of summer and we can barely fall asleep at night it's so hot. What makes you think we're going to be able to bear doing exercise in this heat?"

"Oh you're thinking about this too much. Stop analysing everything and just do something for the fun of it."

"I'm not analysing it, I'm just stating the- hey!" Without warning Puck jumped down and picked her up, flying her to the top of the trampoline.

"There." He said triumphantly. "You're on it. Now you have to bounce."

"Will you lay off if I do?"

"Yes."

"Well fine. If it makes you back off..." she started jumping hesitantly, lifting herself a few centimetres off the surface, and Puck shook his head.

"No, like this." And he leapt into the air so high and dropped so hard she shot up suddenly, screaming as she came back down. He continued leaping, and she continued bouncing, until finally her screams faded, and turned to giggles. It was very out-of-character for her but she couldn't stop it, she felt like a little girl again, and soon she regained the use of her legs and began to jump herself.

"Not so bad is it?" he asked, panting.

She didn't reply, merely shook her head as she continued jumping, him bounding along beside her. Eventually they got tired and lay down on the stretched black surface, breathing heavily as a patch of dense clouds covered the sun, creating some reprieve from the-now-amplified heat. A drop of sweat ran down his forehead and he turned to face her, grinning.

"So you want to keep it?"

She nodded. "Yeah, let's keep it." She smiled and rolled back onto her back, arms thrown wide as she revelled in the patchy shade. She hadn't had so much fun in so long, not on something so ordinary, and she almost buzzed as the high continued to surge through her.

She was so happy, so otherwise occupied, that she didn't notice the quiet hisses he made every so often as he changed position. Nor did she notice the small spasms in the muscles of his leg, or his almost painful breaths as he continued sucking in air. She didn't notice because he hid it well, and it was because he hid it well that it was such a big shock when it happened, such a big shock when everything around her came tumbling down.

**_100 days later  
><em>**

"I hate you," she muttered fiercely "I hate you so much. I can't believe you. I can't believe you'd do this to me!" She leapt up and stamped at the ground, kicking up great clods of dirt with her shoes as she started yelling at the slab of stone in front of her. "Why?! Why did you do this?! I can't... I can't... You lied to me! You said you were alright! You said you were fine! You said nothing was wrong! You said that, that's what you said! And now... and now... Now you're not fine! I hate you!" There was no response, the air was silent, and suddenly it was as if all energy left her body, and she fell to her knees, in front of that unmoving rock stuck in the dirt.

The mud splashed up around her legs, soaking her jeans, and tears rolled down her cheeks as she wept. "I miss you," she whispered quietly, sounding like nothing but a breath of air almost "I miss you so much. I love you, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you that enough, and now I can't and I just... I love you. I love you so..." She couldn't finish her sentence, as now even words failed her. Her head dropped and she cried, small sobs escaping her lips, and up above a tree rustled, and from a branch fell a leaf.

A blood-red autumn leaf dropping gently to the ground, in between the cold tombstone, and the crying girl beside it.

* * *

><p><strong>I know Sabrina was a little ignorant in this story but I had to do that if I wanted the story to end like it did. I tried to keep them as in-character as much as I could, or give reasons for any out-of-character behaivour, but I'm not entirely sure if I succeeded. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Please review.<strong>


	20. Drabbles

**So I thought I'd try my hand at drabbles, seeing as how I've never done them before and they seem like an interesting way to tell a story. Plus, I managed to use seven of my words in one chapter, so its like hitting seven birds with one stone. I wonder how you'd do that though, I don't think rocks bounce off birds particularly well. Anyway, I'm new at this form of writing, so these won't be very good, but I hope you don't find them too bad.**

* * *

><p><strong>Drabbles<strong>

_Angel_

Puck knew something was different when the priest cried out "it's an angel!" and instead of feeling a rush of anger he felt something approaching satisfaction, accomplishment even. That was the moment when he knew he was doing the right thing, when all the nerves and fears were lifted, momentarily, from his mind. This was supposed to happen, he realised, this girl he was fighting for was the girl for him. She changed him, after all. And so, as the glass streamed in pieces around him, his stomach unknotted, his breath began to come easier. He grinned, widely, and spoke.

_Accent_

When Puck and Jake first came back from their several-year-long trip to Italy, there was nothing vastly different about them, nothing that would cause a big shock. And then Puck opened his mouth to insult Sabrina, and she started laughing. He had an Italian accent! A real Italian accent! She couldn't stop laughing, and the more she laughed the more he got angry, and the more he got angry the more he shouted, and well... you get the idea. Eventually he charged at her and she bolted up the stairs giggling while he yells obscenities at her. It's her revenge.

_Coffee_

It was actually an accident this time, when he spilled his iced coffee all over her nice blouse, but she still gets annoyed at him because she has a date that night and he's going to come pick her up in, like, two seconds. At that exact moment the doorbell rings, and she opens the door and she's already begun to apologise when Bradley cuts her off "You look beautiful" even though her white shirt has this big brown stain down the front. She smiles, and Puck grinds his teeth, holding the empty (now crumpled) coffee cup in his hands.

_Dagger_

Puck picks up his butter knife, brandishing it like some tiny sword, or dagger maybe, and stands up, planting one foot on his chair. "Fight me coward," he grins at his girlfriend sitting nearby "if you dare." She just shakes her head, refusing to get involved in his ridiculous antics, but then he topples her glass of milk all over her painstakingly prepared french toast, and she gets annoyed. Picking up her own butter knife she twirls it expertly in her fingers, and they clash. Soon her scowls turn to laughs, she smiles, and she realises that she's having fun.

_Endeavour_

An endeavour is an attempt to achieve a goal. She often views their relationship as an endeavour, some long and arduous journey with no clear finish line. It's like they're on some grand galleon, in blue-black (often stormy) seas, foam-capped waves crashing around them. They try their best to stay afloat, but it's like wherever they go _something_ is just lying there, waiting. Sometimes they survive, make up, they forgive and they forget (in a way). But sometimes they can't do that, it's not enough, and finally she decides enough is enough. She picks up the axe, crying, and scuttles.

_Heat_

Red is commonly fire, passion, while blue is commonly water, calmness. With Red and Little Boy Blue, nothing is more wrong. Red may no longer be timid, but she's certainly not impulsive, she thinks _then_ moves. But Blue, he leaps to his feet without a second thought, he acts. He's fire, she's water, he's passionate, she's calm. But right now, when there's this incredible heat coming off her, a cremation they called it, he wants nothing more than to be what his colour dictates, to throw himself on her and quench the flames. Because he can't lose her. He can't.

_Date_

"Hey, Grimm."

"Yeah Puck?"

"Do you like raisins?"

"What?"

"Do you," he repeated, enunciating each word "like raisins?"

"Uh... I suppose so."

He took a deep breath. "How about a date?"

"..."

"..."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh don't make me say it again."

"Say it."

He winced. "How about a date?"

"You're kidding."

"I really wish I was right now."

"Is this actually how you're going to ask me out?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Yes." He replied sheepishly.

"Well I can't say I expected anything more. Sure."

"Really?"

"Yeah sure why not?"

"Oh. Great. We leave at seven?"

"Alright."

"Alright."

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><p><strong>So these are my drabbles, I did have quite a bit of fun writing them so I may write some more in the future. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading these, I know they're not very good but hopefully they weren't too bad. I think my favourite one might be 'Date', but probably just because it has a bad pickup line more than anything else. So thanks for reading, and please review.<strong>


	21. Birdsong 1

**So this story will be a little different in that it'll be split into two parts. Really just because I was going to write this as one story but then I stopped about halfway to edit my work and thought 'I could actually just post this as a story by itself and it would work.' So I'm going to post this as one chapter and then post the 'extension' as a part 2.**

* * *

><p><strong>Birdsong<strong>

Every time Sabrina hears the twitter of a bird, she smiles inwardly.

It doesn't matter where she is, be it reading a book in the park, swordfighting with Puck, or brooding over her sword fighting partner's latest prank, but every time those notes reach her ears she feels herself lighten just that little bit.

Because that bird, it symbolises something. To her, it symbolises hope.

Once, a long time ago, it symbolised freedom, the potential for freedom. It symbolised the possibility of escape from this town, from the Everafters and the prejudice and mistrust and chaos which so often comes with them.

But now, as she grows accustomed to Ferryport Landing, to its magical citizens and numerous mysteries, she finds the bid from freedom waning.

Now, the bird symbolises only hope for her. Hope of a happy life, a life that soars, a life that's able to transcend past all the pain and death and tears which she saw in the war and instead carry all the joy and happiness and people which she gained from it.

On a particularly reflective day, when she had just finished the diary of one of her more prophetic ancestors and she was contemplating over what she had just read, she wrote this down in her journal.

Puck later stumbled upon it after another successfully rigged bucket of goo, he accidentally pushed it off the top shelf of her closet while setting up, and he opened it, reading quickly (in case his allergies acted up) while the beginnings of a prank began to build in his mind.

Then he got to the last entry, and for once the idea dropped. It slid out of his mind, replaced by something _else_, something foreign and alien and different. As if he was only observing himself move, he carefully removed the bucket from the door and walked out of her room, practising his bird transformations as he went.

...

The next morning, Sabrina woke up not to the sound of her father, but to the confident cry of some bird. She opened her eyes, looking for the source of the sound, and turned to find a large eagle sitting on her windowsill. It had glossy dark plumage, and a sharp golden beak which opened again to emit another caw.

"What are you doing here?" Sabrina murmured thoughtfully, getting up to stroke its head. "I didn't even know we had bald eagles around here." She looked down at its face, into its eyes, which were strikingly green and strangely familiar. They were sharp, intelligent, and there was a certain crafty glint in them which she could have sworn she had seen before.

"You know, your eyes are really weird. They remind me of someone I know. Stupid little fairy boy." She grumbled the last sentence under her breath, and the bird made a curious sound, almost like a chuckle? She reached down to grab her shirt, which had fallen onto the floor, when she saw a dark blue book lying on the floor. _Is that my journal?_ she thought, moving closer. She picked it up. _It is. But what's it doing down here? Unless..._ She stood up, despite the quiet hoots of the eagle, and moved to the doorway. There was a drop of something on the carpet below, greenish in colour and hardened, into a tiny pool.

"Goop," she whispered, "which means..." she whipped around, fixing the eagle with her stare. "Puck! You read my journal!"  
>The eagle spun, changing back until a blonde boy was perched comfortably on the ledge. He grinned at her. "Yes I did."<p>

She walked menacingly up to him. "I'm going to kill you!"

"Wait!" His hands flew up, almost as if to protect his face "Hold on a second! Before you punch me, you should know that I didn't use what I read to prank you."

She stopped, for a second, and her curled fist lowered a fraction. "What?"

"It said you liked birds. So I uh... turned into one and woke you up. You didn't hit me then, which meant you weren't angry. So technically, I didn't actually prank you."

Her arms dropped. "You turned into a bird... because you knew I liked them?" Her voice bordered on disbelief, but she didn't move to hit him.

"Well when you put it like that..." he grumbled under his breath "Yeah I suppose so."

"Oh. Oh. Well then... uh..." she sat on her bed, and looked at him curiously "Thanks, I suppose."

"Yeah yeah." He got up, moving beside her door. "No need to start declaring your love for me just yet Grimm." He walked out of her room.

Still a little confused about the situation, Sabrina walked into her bathroom to brush her teeth, when in the mirror she caught sight of her hair. It was flaming red.

"Puck!" she yelled. She heard him chuckle.

* * *

><p><strong>So I hope you enjoyed reading this. This is the first part, I'll post the second part later. Thanks for reading, please review.<strong>


	22. Birdsong 2

**So this is part 2 of the last chapter. It's not necessarily the end of the story, but it's an extension. Anyway, I hope you like it. Thanks for reading.**

* * *

><p><strong>Birdsong 2<strong>

That became their thing, the bird noises. When he saw her smile as she woke up, and reach over to pet his head (well, the eagle's head), his heart softened a little. He liked her, a lot, he had long come to terms with that, and he may even possibly love her, to the smallest smallest extent possible. Maybe. So every morning he morphed, every morning he made some new noise with his new throat, and every morning they'd smile.

...

It was on one of those mornings where he finally kissed her. He had imitated a swallow that day, tweeted at her in short, quick, machine-gun bursts, and she stretched, looked at him, and told him to morph back. He did so, and the customary exchange occurred.

"So it's a swallow this time."

"Yeah it is."

"Thanks."

"Alright."

Then she walked off into the bathroom, to brush her teeth. When she came back though, he was still sitting there, in the same position as before, and he looked slightly nervous.

"Puck?"

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"What are you still doing here?"

"Uh... I have something to tell you."

"Oh. Alright then, shoot."

"Uh... uh..." He looked around helplessly "I don't know how to say it."

"Puck just say it."

"Oh I'll show you!" And he flew off his perch and pressed his lips to her. It was short, chaste, but for the briefest of seconds their eyes fluttered shut. Then he pulled back, and grinned.

"Yeah. That's it. See ya." And then he was off, whizzing away on his pink fairy wings.

...

"A dove today?"

"Yeah."

"Bit of a strange choice."

"Who are you to judge?"

"Thanks."

"Alright."

When she came back, she saw her boyfriend still sitting, and the events from the last she found him there flew to her mind. "You still here?"

"Yeah."

"Something else to ask?"

"Yeah."

"What is it this time, a proposal?" she smiled, to show he was joking, and he chuckled back.

"Well that now you mention it..." He pulled out a ring box from his pocket and threw it to her. "Marry me?"

She caught it, and opened it to reveal a small golden ring, with two blue and green stones set in it. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"No joke?"

"None at all."

"Well, sure then."

He grinned. "Great."

She strode up to him and kissed him, her fingers tangling in his hair, and stroked his jaw.

"Should we tell Daphne now?" she whispered.

"We probably should."

"She'll freak out."

"I know."

"It'll be very loud."

"It will be. You do it."

"No way."

...

She woke up to the croak of the black-feathered crow.

"A crow today?"

"Yeah."

"A dark bird to choose."

"Was that a pun?"

"Might have been."

"Marshmallow texted me. Says there's a dragon burning down Old McDonald's farm. I'll be back in an hour or so, two hours at most."

"Ok. Stay safe. Don't be an idiot."

"Yeah yeah."

He opened the window, sword already on his belt, wings out.

"Oh hey Puck." Sabrina said, just before he left.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He grinned. "Alright." And then he was off.

...

Her phone rang. _I wonder what's it for_ she thought, picking it up. On the screen it read _Daphne Grimm_.

"Hello?" she said

"'Brina?" The voice on the other end was shaky, and quiet.

"Daphne? What's wrong? Why are you crying? Where's the dragon?"

"The-the dragon's dead. But Puck's been - oh there's so much blood. 'Brina, you better get down here quick. I'll try my best, but I don't think he'll... Just get down here as soon as you can." The line went dead, and Sabrina felt her stomach drop. She grabbed her jacket and ran down the stairs, bolting out the front door to an empty driveway.

'Where's the ca- Jake took it for his date right. Oh my gosh how am I- I'll- I'll run." Turning to her right she sprinted down the street, down down down to the red barn in the distance.

...

When she was halfway there, heart bursting, lungs heaving, her phone rang again. She whipped it out desperately. On the screen it read _Daphne Grimm_. She let it ring a couple times, as she stopped running and leaned against a tree. _She's calling_ she thought _which means... Which means he's dead._ Tears ran down her face, and suddenly she felt like there wasn't enough air for her to breathe. Her core clenched, her throat tightened, and a weak sob escaped her lips.

But the phone, it kept on ringing, kept on ringing, and finally she clicked accept.

"He's dead isn't he? Oh god oh god he's dead."

There was silence on the other line, except for a quiet hiccup.

She hung up.

Sliding down the tree, she held her head in her hands, as she choked out "He's dead. God, oh god he's dead."

In the background, a crow caawed, and she cried harder.

It looked at the girl with sharp eyes,

spun around,

and flew away.

* * *

><p><strong>I was actually seriously considering not killing him at the end. I even wrote an ending where he didn't die. But then I thought that it'd be such an interesting contrast to Pt 1 if I killed him, so then I wrote this. Anyway, I've been on this really morbid rush with this story, a lot of the chapters before this have included death of some kind, so I'll probably make the next one happier. And I should probably get around to writing a chapter not dedicated to Puck and Sabrina. Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review.<strong>


	23. Birdsong 2 alt 1

**So someone asked for the alternate ending for 'Birdsong 2', so here it is, but its not the happy one. It's only different from the ~;~ below though.**

* * *

><p><strong>Birdsong 2.1<strong>

That became their thing, the bird noises. When he saw her smile as she woke up, and reach over to pet his head (well, the eagle's head), his heart softened a little. He liked her, a lot, he had long come to terms with that, and he may even possibly love her, to the smallest smallest extent possible. Maybe. So every morning he morphed, every morning he made some new noise with his new throat, and every morning they'd smile.

...

It was on one of those mornings where he finally kissed her. He had imitated a swallow that day, tweeted at her in short, quick, machine-gun bursts, and she stretched, looked at him, and told him to morph back. He did so, and the customary exchange occurred.

"So it's a swallow this time."

"Yeah it is."

"Thanks."

"Alright."

Then she walked off into the bathroom, to brush her teeth. When she came back though, he was still sitting there, in the same position as before, and he looked slightly nervous.

"Puck?"

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"What are you still doing here?"

"Uh... I have something to tell you."

"Oh. Alright then, shoot."

"Uh... uh..." He looked around helplessly "I don't know how to say it."

"Puck just say it."

"Oh I'll show you!" And he flew off his perch and pressed his lips to her. It was short, chaste, but for the briefest of seconds their eyes fluttered shut. Then he pulled back, and grinned.

"Yeah. That's it. See ya." And then he was off, whizzing away on his pink fairy wings.

...

"A dove today?"

"Yeah."

"Bit of a strange choice."

"Who are you to judge?"

"Thanks."

"Alright."

When she came back, she saw her boyfriend still sitting, and the events from the last she found him there flew to her mind. "You still here?"

"Yeah."

"Something else to ask?"

"Yeah."

"What is it this time, a proposal?" she smiled, to show he was joking, and he chuckled back.

"Well that now you mention it..." He pulled out a ring box from his pocket and threw it to her. "Marry me?"

She caught it, and opened it to reveal a small golden ring, with two blue and green stones set in it. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"No joke?"

"None at all."

"Well, sure then."

He grinned. "Great."

She strode up to him and kissed him, her fingers tangling in his hair, and stroked his jaw.

"Should we tell Daphne now?" she whispered.

"We probably should."

"She'll freak out."

"I know."

"It'll be very loud."

"It will be. You do it."

"No way."

...

She woke up to the croak of the black-feathered crow.

"A crow today?"

"Yeah."

"A dark bird to choose."

"Was that a pun?"

"Might have been."

"Marshmallow texted me. Says there's a dragon burning down Old McDonald's farm. I'll be back in an hour or so, two hours at most."

"Ok. Stay safe. Don't be an idiot."

"Yeah yeah."

He opened the window, sword already on his belt, wings out.

"Oh hey Puck." Sabrina said, just before he left.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He grinned. "Alright." And then he was off.

~;~

He never returned.

...

She can no longer walk in the park.

Now the sounds of birdsong, it breaks her.

Be it the cry of the eagle, the twitter of the sparrow, the call of the dove, or the crackle of the crow, she can feel her throat clench, her fingers shake, her world falling apart over and over again, as the whistle of death mingles with the whistle of the bird.

As tears run down her face,

and she cries.

* * *

><p><strong>I personally like this ending more than the one in 'Birdsong 2'. It seems more... subtle, and sophisticated to me. I'll have the happy alternate ending posted, once I rewrite it (I deleted it). Thanks for reading, and please review.<strong>


	24. Birdsong 2 alt 2

**This is the alternate ending which is happy, as requested by Curlscat. Personally I like the one when Puck dies better, but to each their own I suppose. Like the last chapter, the different part starts after the ~;~.**

* * *

><p><strong>Birdsong 2.2<strong>

That became their thing, the bird noises. When he saw her smile as she woke up, and reach over to pet his head (well, the eagle's head), his heart softened a little. He liked her, a lot, he had long come to terms with that, and he may even possibly love her, to the smallest smallest extent possible. Maybe. So every morning he morphed, every morning he made some new noise with his new throat, and every morning they'd smile.

...

It was on one of those mornings where he finally kissed her. He had imitated a swallow that day, tweeted at her in short, quick, machine-gun bursts, and she stretched, looked at him, and told him to morph back. He did so, and the customary exchange occurred.

"So it's a swallow this time."

"Yeah it is."

"Thanks."

"Alright."

Then she walked off into the bathroom, to brush her teeth. When she came back though, he was still sitting there, in the same position as before, and he looked slightly nervous.

"Puck?"

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"What are you still doing here?"

"Uh... I have something to tell you."

"Oh. Alright then, shoot."

"Uh... uh..." He looked around helplessly "I don't know how to say it."

"Puck just say it."

"Oh I'll show you!" And he flew off his perch and pressed his lips to her. It was short, chaste, but for the briefest of seconds their eyes fluttered shut. Then he pulled back, and grinned.

"Yeah. That's it. See ya." And then he was off, whizzing away on his pink fairy wings.

...

"A dove today?"

"Yeah."

"Bit of a strange choice."

"Who are you to judge?"

"Thanks."

"Alright."

When she came back, she saw her boyfriend still sitting, and the events from the last she found him there flew to her mind. "You still here?"

"Yeah."

"Something else to ask?"

"Yeah."

"What is it this time, a proposal?" she smiled, to show he was joking, and he chuckled back.

"Well that now you mention it..." He pulled out a ring box from his pocket and threw it to her. "Marry me?"

She caught it, and opened it to reveal a small golden ring, with two blue and green stones set in it. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"No joke?"

"None at all."

"Well, sure then."

He grinned. "Great."

She strode up to him and kissed him, her fingers tangling in his hair, and stroked his jaw.

"Should we tell Daphne now?" she whispered.

"We probably should."

"She'll freak out."

"I know."

"It'll be very loud."

"It will be. You do it."

"No way."

...

She woke up to the croak of the black-feathered crow.

"A crow today?"

"Yeah."

"A dark bird to choose."

"Was that a pun?"

"Might have been."

"Marshmallow texted me. Says there's a dragon burning down Old McDonald's farm. I'll be back in an hour or so, two hours at most."

"Ok. Stay safe. Don't be an idiot."

"Yeah yeah."

He opened the window, sword already on his belt, wings out.

"Oh hey Puck." Sabrina said, just before he left.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He grinned. "Alright." And then he was off.

~;~

Sweat ran down her forehead in great droplets, her legs ached with the burn of fatigue as she forced herself to run faster. Her mind surged, surged with fear and worry, and even the slightest trace of anger, her mental state almost as energetic as her physical one.

When she was halfway there though, her phone vibrated in her pocket, and it began to ring. She stopped, and pulled it out. On the screen it read _Daphne Grimm. She's calling_ she thought_ which means- No, no way, no freaking way!_ With gritted teeth and shaking fingers she flipped open the phone and pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey Sabrina."

"Puck?!"

"The one and only."

"You're- you're- you're alive!"

"I like to think so yeah." She could almost hear the smile in his voice.

"Daphne said you were going to die!"

"Marshmallow was being an idiot." Sabrina heard a distant 'hey!' from the other end of the line. "She took one look at me, saw some broken ribs and blood, and started completely freaking out, calling you and crying and everything, before I started groaning and told her to get a move on with the healing. To be perfectly honest, I think the pregnancy is starting to get to her."

"Puck, she's not pregnant."

"She's not?"

"No."

"Oh. Well she's acting like someone who is."

She smiled, and shook her head. "You're an idiot."

"Says you."

"You're the one who thought Daphne was pregnant."

"She was acting like a pregnant lady!" He whined defensively. "Besides, I've made some pretty smart choices in my time."

"Name one."

"Well there was that whole incident in the forest and those four idiots."

"That wasn't smart, that was cruel."

"Fine. I made my mum fall in love with a guy with a donkey head."

"Again, that was just cruel. Plus, your dad thought of it, not you."

"Ugh you're so picky." He paused for a bit. "Alright, I got one."

"Let's hear it."

"I fell in love with you."

She blushed, and didn't speak for a second, unprepared for such an affectionate response. "That was... smooth," she said finally "I'll give you that."

He chuckled. "Of course it was. Now are you going to get a move on and come over, or do I have to fake die again?"

"You're the one who called me!"

"Well you were crying!"

"How would you know?!"

"Were you?!"

"No!"

"Were you about to?"

She didn't respond, and he chuckled again.

"Exactly. Now hurry up."

She grumbled under her breath. "Fine."

"Great."

"Oh wait Puck." she said, just before he broke the call.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Alright."

* * *

><p><strong>God I'm bad with humour. I mean I like reading it in stories, but I'm no good with it. Ah well, I'll just try to avoid it next time. Anyway, I hope you liked this ending, tell me which one you liked most, I am genuinely interested. Thanks for reading, please review.<strong>


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